I've been here all along
by Courtney Peppernell
Summary: A story about retracing your steps, and discovering that your soulmate has been there all along.
1. Prologue

Dearest Brittana Fans,

I decided to start a project specifically dedicated to you.

I've never seen such a reaction for two characters on TV, and I just really wanted to explore the dynamics a little further. I've mapped out exactly what I'm going to do in this story, and it will be about me posting chapters as regularly as my busy schedule will allow.

Stick with me guys, I'm in between continents, other projects and jet lag is my number one enemy. Stick it out though, I will make it worth your while!

Happy reading!

-Court

* * *

><p><strong>I'VE BEEN HERE ALL ALONG<strong>

**_PROLOGUE_**

What if the world was like a box of Crayola's?

We're here to colour the world with imagination and accept all the different types of crayons in our box.

At the end of the day though, who's your one colour?

The one colour that you paint your life with.

The one colour that is the last to leave your box?

Maybe the world isn't made up of people searching for themselves, maybe the world is made up of people searching for others who want to know them, as much as they know themselves.

Imagine yourself as one solitary planet, existing in the universe waiting to meet the star that's going to brighten your life.

Have you found them yet?

Don't ever let them go.

Keep them there, hold onto them until the last planet burns bright.

You're my one colour.

You're the star that healed my world.

Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

_If I asked you, would you close your eyes and imagine us somewhere else_

* * *

><p><strong><em><strong><em>NOW<em>**_**

The room smelt like pollen from all the flowers cluttered on the side table, the air was light but warm as Santana sat with her eyes glued to the small machine beeps. It was ticking over and over in her head, as she trailed her eyes over the body wrapped in tubes and white sheets. Their lips were slightly parted, and allowed for a tube to have been placed in their mouth, pumping oxygen into their body.

_Beep, Beep, Beep_

"Dear, you can go home you know. Shower? Sleep, come back later tonight?"

Santana didn't even bother looking at the nurse, she knew she would check the fluids, check the clipboard and then leave the room all within moments. The nurse hovered for a moment; Santana could feel her eyes tracing every outline of her.

"I'm not leaving," she muttered finally, anything to make the woman leave, just leave so she could be left alone with her finance.

"She wouldn't want this Miss Lopez,"

"I'm not leaving!"

The nurse sighed, fixing the clipboard back into its hold at the foot of the bed, before adjusting a cord and pressing a green button on the machine.

For a while Santana stared at her, she trailed her eyes over long blonde hair, as it lay draped over her shoulders. She could see both her arms either side of her body, lying as still as she had ever seen them. She could see the veins twisting down to her hands and all she wanted was to press her lips to her skin, just to taste her, smell that familiar scent that woke her up every morning.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and Santana absentmindedly reached for it, without taking her eyes off her finance.

She flipped the Samsung and glanced at the screen, she drew her breath as the name flashed before her.

_San,_

_Enough. We're worried about you. Come home, the hospital will call if anything changes. Please San, it's been five weeks. Please come home._

_Q_

Santana shut the phone with a snap, before bringing her hands to her face and pushing her eyelids inwards until she saw stars behind her lids, she just wanted to see anything but the picture in front of her. She could feel the air from the open window seeping into the room, god she just needed to breathe, she needed to breathe and cut the rope that was suffocating her heart. She moved her hands from her eyes and trailed them up her fiancés arm, feeling her skin beneath the pads of her fingertips.

"Brittsticks," she murmured, "I need you to wake up. I need you to open your eyes".

_Nothing_

"Brittany," she said again, louder this time, "Britt please,"

_Nothing_

Santana cupped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying out, the pain welled itself at the pit of her stomach and clawed its way up to her chest.

There was no movement, there was nothing, she was staring at the girl she was supposed to be marrying in two weeks, and right now, the only sound she made, were beeps from the machine keeping her alive.

* * *

><p><strong>Five weeks, 4 days, 2 hours ago<strong>

Brittany's lips pulled at Santana's as she sat in her lap, holding onto the strands of her hair. "_God_," Santana muttered breathless, unclipping the small hook in Brittany's bra, "_I will want you forever"_.

"No!" Brittany said in protest, "San, we are supposed to be shopping for dresses today!"

Santana groaned, "I think you should just go naked, we can snuggle at the altar, it will be fun,"

She playfully winked at Brittany, who pushed her back into the pillows, "Santana you promised me,"

Santana rolled her eyes, "Baby please, just one more time before we leave,"

"Santana you have been saying that every morning for the past two weeks," she huffed.

Santana smirked, "Britts you know I don't care if we wear raincoats to our wedding, I just want to say I do and finally call you my wife!"

Brittany hopped to their wardrobe and pulled her jacket around her shoulders, "Well I care!"

Santana sighed, "Okay we'll go,"

Brittany smiled and placed a kiss to her cheek, "Good, because Kurt's downstairs,"

Santana pulled her hair into a pony tail and laughed, "He's back from London?"

"Yes just for us. So hurry up already!"

New York City is wrapped in steel and glass that twist together towards the sky. Santana had moved here for college, four long years working towards a dream in the city that never slept. She's graduated and had no intention of leaving, and Brittany had been here all along, pursuing a dance masters and teaching at Westchester Dance Academy. The one thing Santana had found about moving here, straight from Ohio, was that even though it was such an endless city, buzzing with never ending crowds, you might just find that the people are just like you, trying to be someone, trying to find themselves.

**. . .**

"Santana, what are you so scared of?"

She looked at Kurt, sitting cross legged on the chair outside the change rooms. His hat tilted to the side, shoes clean and polished.

"I'm not scared," she replied.

"You are," he responded adamantly, "I can see it in your eyes, it's the same look I saw all those years ago, spill,"

Santana sighed; she could never slip anything past Kurt. Ever.

"I don't want the wedding to be this huge thing, I just want Britts, I've always just wanted Brittany,"

Kurt smirked slightly, "Santana, Brittany wants a big wedding, how can you not want that too, huge cake, glorious dresses, champagne! Oh champagne," he said distracted, "What the devil are you going to order? I'd go with Veuve Clicquot, Blaine says..."

"Kurt," she snapped.

"Sorry, continue,"

"It's not the whole worlds business you know, this should just be about me and Britts,"

"Santana," he reasoned, "It _is_ about you two. This whole day is about you. But Brittany wants to share it with the world, you have to appreciate that,"

"I do!" she replied irritably, "Why do you think I'm here dress shopping,"

He smiled, "It will be a good day! I as your wedding planner, position allocated via Skype last week, will make sure everything is in place,"

Santana opened her mouth in protest, clearly unaware that Kurt and Brittany had made these plans, yet he held up his hand to silence her.

"You don't need to worry about a thing, other than being able to restrain from seeing your fiance the night before the wedding,"

"Oh god," she groaned, "That's too traditional, I'm not going to hide away like some diseased..."

"San!" He demanded, "It is bad luck! You will not see her!"

She slumped her shoulders a little, half annoyed, half wanting to hug the breath out of him because he was so good at calming her down. _Kurt freaking Hummel_. The out of the closet kid in high school who gave her a reason for gay jokes every other day. God how things had changed. Santana couldn't even bring herself to admit that's who she was back then. Brittany tells her it made her who she is now, but she's so scared she'll go back to be that angry adolescent who had no idea how to show kindness.

"Sweet Jeffery Campbell," Kurt suddenly whispered.

Santana looked up from where she had been staring at the hem fraying on the chair cushions, before she felt her jaw hit the floor. Brittany stood before her, in this dress that seemed to flow out beneath her like clouds. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear shyly.

"Well," she said, "What do you think?"

Kurt laughed and clapped his hands together, "It's perfect, oh so perfect, Britt you look wonderful!"

Santana gulped slightly, she wanted to literally rip it from her body and take her on the floor.

"San?" she said turning a little in a circle so Santana's eyes feel over the low riding back of the dress and consequently Brittany's porcelain skin.

"Marry Me," she choked out.

Brittany laughed and placed a kiss to her forehead, "In five weeks I will be!"

She disappeared into the change room and Kurt sat back down, next to Santana. He slapped his hand to her thigh and squeezed tightly, "Now, why wouldn't you want to show that off to the world?"

Santana smirked, "How about we just have the reception on a roof top?"

"Oh Christ!" she muttered, as Kurt's eyes lit up.


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

_Live with me, love with me, never live without me_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do!"

Quinn held her hands up, as though they were a white flag to the rathe Santana was hurling at her.

"I'm trying to help you for Christ sake!"

"Help me?" she cried, "By telling me I should kill my fiancé?"

The tears welled in Quinn's eyes as she slumped back into the chair. Santana watched as Rachel slipped her arm around Quinn's shoulders pulling her towards her, placing the softest kiss to Quinn's cheek.

Santana felt sick.

"Tell me Q, tell me if that was Rachel in there would you do the same?"

"Don't you dare," Quinn reeled pushing back up out of the chair and nearly slamming into her.

"Q," Rachel said reaching and grabbing her arm.

Quinn stood directly in front of Santana, their eyes were locked, nearly nose to nose, Santana could see herself in the reflection of Quinn's hazel green eyes.

"You don't think I want her back too? You don't think that any of us just want her back? This was an accident Santana, a terrible, fucked up accident, but none of that will change what the doctors have said,"

"They said she has a chance," Santana whispered,

"They said she has a 3% chance," Quinn corrected.

"Can we stop fighting? Please just for one moment,"

Santana snapped her eyes to the four wheeler in the corner of the room, his hands in his lap, his legs as lifeless as what Brittany could be.

"Brittany has been hurt badly Santana,"

Her eyes glared at him, "Don't lecture me," she snapped.

"We're not," Quinn reasoned, "We're trying to help you find peace,"

"By telling me I should switch off Brittany's ventilator!"

Rachel muffled a cry by pushing her scarf into her mouth, Santana had only ever seen her do this once. It was midway between Mr Schuester's, their old school teacher's funeral. He had taught them all the right words to use in their life and reading his eulogy Rachel had lost all of hers.

"I will not live without her, Santana said, "I don't know how to,"

* * *

><p><strong>Five weeks, 3 days, 2 hours ago<strong>

Santana laughed as Rachel stumbled slightly, consequently knocking over the pyramid of tuna tins.

"You really do have two left feet don't you,"

Rachel flushed red, hastily attempting to pick up the cans and place them back on the stand they had tumbled from.

"Santana, this is no time for your jokes, do you have any idea how stressed I am? I have to organise TWO hens' nights. TWO!"

Santana rolled her eyes, "For god sake, can we just combine them? Let's just go see a movie or something!"

Rachel stopped suddenly, midway between aisle 3, in front of the diced strawberries, she was already dressed in an oversized red cardigan, she just about blended into the stands.

"What's wrong with you?" she demanded, "We're all coming to the wedding Santana, we all made the flights out to come be a part of this,"

"You and Q live in New York?"

Rachel pursed her lips and planted a hand to her hip, "That is beside the point. Puck will be here in three weeks. Mercedes, Tina and Mike, for crying out loud Santana it's a damn high school reunion. I thought that Finn would…." She trailed off a moment, sighing before catching her breath.

Santana eyes travelled to the floor, Rachel hadn't spoken about Finn in years, "You're going off on a tangent again," she replied, "I appreciate everything Rachel, I really do, but I just don't want the whole damn world prying in on my business,"

Rachel folded her arms, "Well perhaps you shouldn't have gone to Julliard and released back to back albums?"

Santana growled and stalked passed her.

"San," Rachel muttered, rushing after her, "San I didn't mean that, you have every right to a wonderful career and every right to…."

"I want all my rights to Brittany! That's it, why does every other person known to man need to be invited to this wedding?"

"Because your future wife has the body of a goddess and can stop hearts when she dances," Quinn rounded the corner carrying a shopping basket and waving a spatula in her hand

"Baby," Rachel frowned, "I bought a spatula last week,"

Quinn stared at her, "It's broken,"

Rachel opened her mouth before realising the glare Quinn was giving her and trying not to smile.

"I do not, want to know," Santana muttered.

. . .

Santana had always wanted to know how to pick apart the threads of an old life, discover all the secrets that made her who she was. Ever since college, she had come to the same coffee house for every plausible thing. Studying for her business management degree, writing the album full of songs when Brittany wasn't hers, meeting with the record label that produced that album and three more; all her birthdays since moving here. Most importantly, this had been the one place where she had sought refuge, the one place, that if she was ever lost, Brittany would always be able to find her. Santana opened the door and held it open for Rachel and Quinn to dash inside, she warmed instantly to the smell of coffee and wooden surfaces before smiling at Tatum, the young waiter. He nodded, signaling that he'd have the usual up in only a few moments.

"We haven't brought up the topic of Artie coming," Rachel said suddenly.

Santana groaned as she slumped into the booth moving the menu to the side, suddenly all her appetite was lost.

"Rachel," Quinn hissed, sliding in next to her.

"Oh don't," she replied, placing her hands on the table, "We need to talk about this, he's Brittany's ex for crying out loud,"

"From high school," Quinn corrected.

"On and off through college," Rachel responded, "Might I add a very much _on_ two summers ago!"

"Stop!" Santana said loudly and they both jumped, "Brittany has always been mine, it just took her a while to realise it,"

"Yes, you had to make an album to prove it to her," Quinn retorted, to which Rachel slapped her hand to her thigh, Quinn winced.

Santana took off her coat and placed it in the corner of the booth, before Tatum was at her side placing a plate full of muffins and setting down coffees.

"You know us too well Tate," she smiled.

"I just want free signed albums," he winked.

Rachel and Quinn smirked as Santana laughed.

"Anyone would think you're heterosexual, flirting with him all the time!"

"I do not flirt," she replied.

Rachel cocked an eyebrow before Santana waved her hand dismissively, "You don't want free coffee and muffins every other day?"

She relaxed almost immediately, bringing the mug to her lips.

"And what about Artie being a part of the wedding party?" Quinn asked, bringing them back to the conversation.

"Look Britt wants him there okay!"

Quinn opened her mouth to say something, but Rachel shoved half of her muffin inside instead.

"Artie is our friend," she said, "We're all adults, Brittany is marrying Santana and he knows that,"

"Ever the optimist!" Santana smirked, as Quinn struggled to swallow the blueberry pastry.

"There's still so much to organise!" Rachel quipped changing the subject, "How's Kurt going with the planning?"

Santana raised her eyebrows, to which Rachel sighed exasperatingly.

"San, honestly, you don't even know what's going on with your own wedding!"

"I do," she replied defensively, "I know that you're my maid of honour, Quinn is Brittany's, we're getting married in St Patricks old cathedral and Kurt is organising absolutely everything down to floral arrangements,"

Rachel beamed as Quinn reached over to stroke Santana's hand, "I love that you asked us," she murmured.

"There was never going to be anyone else!"

"Ladies, can I get you refills, anything else to eat?" Tatum asked, standing with a jug of black coffee held high in the air.

"No thank you," Quinn smiled, "I think I still have blueberry muffin lodged in my throat,"

Rachel laughed, "Stop!"

Santana smiled as Rachel leant towards Quinn and kissed her. Maybe it had never been about the moments that it had taken them to get where they were all now, maybe it was always just meant to be this way.

"It would have been great if Mr Schue was still here," Quinn said softly, pouring more sugar into her mug.

Santana felt her heart flutter faintly, from the memory of a man who had never once stopped believing in her.

"He is here," Rachel said quietly.

"I know but," Quinn replied shrugging.

"No Rachel's right," Santana responded, "He's here now, and he'll be at the wedding,"

Rachel clapped her hands together, "Enough, let's start making a check list,"

Quinn groaned, "Baby we have those plastered on the walls at home, do we have to?"

"Yes!" she said, reaching into her handbag and reefing out a notepad. She opened a new page as Santana looked at the stars doted along the borders.

She smirked, "Do you remember starch?"

Rachel looked up, "God San, you haven't called me that since college!"

Quinn laughed, "Starch! That's right star and Rachel combined, oh god that was hilarious!"

"Stop!" Rachel said again, "I like stars!"

"You are a star," Quinn smiled bringing Rachel's hand to her lips and pressing firmly.

Santana watched as Rachel began scribbling words and phrases onto the lined paper, throwing words like invitations sent, reception hall booked, balloons ordered at her and either knowing that it had been done herself or rolling her eyes as Santana would shrug.

"You know," she said after a while, "You are blessed, that I have Kurt on speed dial,"


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_I'm sorry if I steal your heat, you just keep me warm_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

God she was so beautiful, Santana sometimes wondered if she was even allowed to touch her, hold her; run her mouth over her body.

"Britt," she said, moving from the seat at her bed side and crawling up beside her. She shuddered at how cold her skin felt compared to the usual heat that Santana would always bask in.

_Aren't you cold? _Brittany would always ask_, Santana you're not wearing much,_

_I'm warm Brittsticks, I'm always warm!_

It would make her laugh, _why?_

_You make me warm!_

Santana wrapped her arm around Brittany's waist, pulling her closer, burying her face in the crook of her neck. Even after all this time in here, she still smelt like Brittany. Santana would never forget her smell; it was embedded within her own skin.

"Do you remember that time in the park, that summer when we'd just turned sixteen?" she whispered into her ear, "Do you remember what happened? We were climbing over the jungle gym remember, and I slipped and you grabbed my hand. You promised you wouldn't let go. You promised Brittsticks, you promised!"

There was a small knock at the door, as Santana lifted her head from Brittany's shoulder.

"Can I come in?"

Santana nodded briefly, as Rachel walked into the room and shut the door behind her.

She sat tentatively in the seat that had become Santana's vigil.

"She looks like sleeping beauty don't you think?"

Santana didn't respond. She was trying so hard to stop the tears welling at her eyelids.

"I'm sorry this had to happen," Rachel offered.

Santana looked to her. "I deserve this. I'm being punished for the bitch I was back in high school,"

Rachel responded with one of her typical shock- of- terror- Berry faces, before grasping for words.

"Santana, that was seven years ago! That was pre college, pre Mr Schue's death, pre everything that has ever mattered!"

"Karma," she replied.

Rachel moaned slightly before running her hands through her hair.

"Santana do you remember that party right before my graduation? You and Brittany got me so drunk I nearly did not show up for my final speeches the next morning,"

Santana fought the smile crawling its way across her face. Remembering Rachel in her Yale hoodie vomiting over the hedges and Brittany singing through a witches hat.

"I'm surprised you remember we were there,"

Rachel flushed red, "I do because it was the same night, you convinced me to admit how I really felt about Quinn I graduated and the next day I took the first plane out to L.A to tell her. Santana you told me to never stop believing in love, to do what my heart told me to do,"

"But my heart won't let go of her," she whispered.

Rachel stared back at her, eyes puffy and red, lips slightly quivering, "Exactly,"

Santana frowned, "I don't understand,"

"Don't ever let her go San, don't switch it off, don't do it. Britt will come back, I know she will,"

There was this unrelenting feeling of gratitude that seemed to surge over her and she felt like she'd never found a greater friend than she had in Rachel Berry. Santana moved from the bed, and crawled her way to Rachel, barely able to contain the tears anymore. She collapsed in a heap in her lap. Rachel held her there for what seemed like hours. She held her, until Santana's great shuddering sobs had nulled to quiet tears of exhaustion.

* * *

><p><strong>Five weeks, 1 day, 2 hours ago<strong>

Santana was staring at the wedding cakes through the glass window. They looked like skyscrapers, twisting themselves upwards into the ceiling. They were decorated so elegantly, she just really wanted to know how long it had taken the pastry master to make them. When Santana had been in college she used to believe that the world was so full of people and so crowded with topics and issues that all the little things just became a commonplace, like people just forgot about them. People forgot how to do the simplest thing, and that was to talk to each other. She had made such a continuous effort to do everything Brittany had wanted for this wedding that she had forgotten the one thing she had wanted.

"Britt," she said reaching for her arm.

Brittany straightened up from where she had been hunched over the plastic book full of different size cakes, and decorations and flavours.

"I want this to be the best day of your life…."

Brittany frowned, "Baby I want that for you too…"

"No listen," she said, "Let me finish,"

Brittany nodded tilting her head in a way that had forever taken Santana's breath away.

"I want our wedding hymn to be songbird,"

Brittany beamed, "San," she whispered, pulling her forwards and wrapping her arms around her waist, "Of course,"

"You remember it don't you? You remember me singing it to you?"

Brittany nodded and kissed her, "I could never forget that,"

"Lilies!"

Santana jumped at the shriek that had cascaded through the bakery's open door to find Kurt had made himself present.

"We'll douse the cathedral in lilies!"

Brittany laughed, "Kurt you read my mind!"

He smiled, "It'll be like a winter wonderland, with two snowflakes becoming one,"

"Oh god Kurt, can you be any more dramatic!" Santana replied, rising on her tip toes slightly to eye the young boy behind the counter, he was squeezing chocolate from a tube and spelling out a birthday message. She'd always wanted to know how they'd done that.

"Oh that reminds me!" Brittany said suddenly, "I need to duck across the road,"

"Why!" Santana said biting her lip, "Stay here and choose a cake with me, we'll go to where ever next together,"

"You can't come with me," she protested, "Kurt take my place,"

Santana smirked before allowing Brittany's hand to fall from her grip, "I'll be back in a minute, don't have too much fun without me,"

Santana watched her disappear from the store before turning back to the plastic example book, "I just want something that taste's good,"

"Marble," he said licking his lips, "It'll be like eating Caesar's Palace,"

Santana laughed and went to pinch his cheeks, before the sound of brakes screeching shot through from outside, and a scream ricocheted through the glass panels.

Sometimes what you don't know won't hurt you, sometimes you can close your eyes and pretend that what is happening isn't actually real, that you've just been catapulted into a dream and you'll wake up soon. From the moment Santana heard the brittle shatter of glass everything seemed to happen in slow motion. They say the most critical points in your life happen through blurred moments that you're left to remember when your head is clear. Only right now, everything was as clear as reflection. Everything from the black sedan that had mounted the gutter and was puffing smoke, the bystanders all trying to call 911, the waitress on the corner crying and pointing, the dent on the bonnet of the car, the glass shades littering the ground, and her finance, lying motionless in the middle of the divided lines, blood seeping from underneath her body and rolling across the tar.

Santana hadn't screamed, she had done nothing but run straight to Brittany, her body falling next to her, gravel scraping her exposed skin. She had pulled Brittany into her arms and searched for her eyes, she had searched for those bright blue eyes that she woke up to each and every morning. For a moment there had been stillness, all Santana could hear was her own heart thudding against her chest, like a boom box that god had slammed into overdrive. Then Brittany had opened her eyes, she had muttered something that was incoherent, and Santana had merely pulled her closer. If they could just lock eyes, everything would be okay again. If her eyes found Brittany's then all the screaming around them would stop, she would catch her and everything would be alright.

"Brittany," she had begun saying, "Baby, it's okay, I've got you okay, I have you and everything is going to be alright,"

"Santana," she had whispered.

"No, you are okay; you are okay because I have you,"

Brittany had lifted her hand to Santana's face in what had seemed like the most strength she had ever used. She had smiled slightly, through the cuts on her face; she had smiled and whispered, "I love you,"

The world stopped spinning when Brittany had closed her eyes. Santana couldn't find the blue anymore, she couldn't find herself in Brittany's eyes, and suddenly she was lost.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_Could you sell me the stars in the sky, just so I could give them all to you_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

"We don't sell happy pie's," the woman barked from across the counter.

Santana slammed down her money on the bench, "They're Brittany's favourite!"

"I don't care who Brittany is!"

Santana lunged forward across the counter, attempting to throttle the woman, "Escucha! Voy a engañar a los pedazos! Es estúpido grasa puta!"

In all her petite glory, Rachel managed to cuff an arm under Santana's and reef her backwards.

"Noah!" she cried, "Noah for crying out loud!"

In three strides Puck had reached them and was hauling Santana from the countertop and half dragging half carrying her outside.

"I'm Sorry," Rachel muttered, following him.

"Why did you stop me god dammit Puck! No me gusta!"

"Enough!" he said silencing her, "Jesus Santana your crazy Latino routine should have ended in high school!"

She didn't blink.

He stood there head shaven, shirt tight fitting, wedding ring blinking in the sunlight.

"How's Gabrielle?" she asked quietly.

"Worried about you," he responded, "So am I,"

Rachel was standing beside them within moments, still clearly distraught over Santana's outburst.

"Don't be I'm fine,"

"Which is why Rach calls me at 3am is it?"

Santana glared at Rachel as she snuck behind Puck, "Don't be mad Santana, I've only got your best intentions at heart!"

"Verdict?" Puck asked brushing Rachel off, "Are you pulling the plug or not?"

He'd always been so direct, straight to the point. When he had joined the police force, packed up and moved to Atlanta and married his college sweetheart he'd rung and left a message. But that was _Puck_.

"She's the love of my life,"

"It's good to see you're still thinking straight," he said sighing.

Santana tilted her head.

"Noah agrees with me about keeping Brittany alive," Rachel beamed.

"3% chance," Santana choked out.

"Yeah," Puck shrugged, "3% chance and Brittany will think it's a 300% chance. She hates maths remember,"

Santana felt the lump catch in her throat as she burst into tears. Puck stepped forward his arms enveloping her so she could cry into his shoulder. Rachel moved behind him, pulling a tissue from her handbag and proceeding to dab Santana's eyes.

"If I won't let Britts go, please don't let me go,"

Rachel looked at her and shook her head, "I promise," she whispered.

. . .

The one thing Santana had learnt about hospitals, is that in the quiet of the night, when you're eyes are closed; you will always here the truth. You will hear the nurses whispering about how severe the patient's injuries are, you will hear the patients murmuring in their sleep about their deepest darkest fears, and most of all you will hear your own mind ticking over the thoughts that you're too afraid to utter with your eyes open. She had learnt that hospitals bring out the senses you never really used in the first place. Since Brittany had been admitted, Santana's most powerful sense had been smell, because it linked everything to memory. The smell of pollen in the gift store reminded her of all the moments they spent in the park across the road from Brittany's family home. The smell of books brought from Rachel for Santana to read while she sat beside the hospital bed, reminded her of all the times she would quiz Brittany in college on her exams. Most of all the scent of Brittany, the scent that made her insides melt; the scent that was home. Have you ever just wanted one more conversation with someone, just one more chance to say the things you should have said every single day? Santana's first intentions were not those three words that mean so much; they were two simple words, two simple words that the world uses so little of. Santana just wanted to say _thank you_. She just wanted Brittany to open her eyes so she could thank her for bringing out the best in her.

"Brittany," she said softly, reaching over and stroking her cheek, "Brittany you are the best parts of me, I need you wake up and be those parts,"

Santana felt the lump grow in her throat once more, as the only response was the beeping from the machine beside them. She lowered her head into the side of Brittany's body, feeling her stomach rise in the beats that her heart was trying so desperately to hold onto. Santana could go the rest of her life, collecting days and knowing that none would outweigh the one she so badly wants back.

There was suddenly a small murmur as Santana felt movement beneath her. She sat up immediately, her eyes searching Brittany's entire body.

"Brittany," she said urgently, "Britts?"

Then she saw it, the most perfect thing she had seen in weeks. Brittany's eyes were fluttering open.

"Oh my god," Santana cried, she reached down the side of the bed and hit the emergency button, signalling the nursing staff.

"Baby," she whispered, "Baby can you hear me?"

She reached and cradled Brittany's face in her hands, as she struggled with the tubes, untangling them from her finance's body, so she could breathe normally. Brittany took a large gulp of air, and croaked slightly. The wounds along her forehead seemed fresher all of a sudden, as though they were waking up too. She moaned painfully, and Santana's heart dropped at the realisation five weeks of monitored and unfelt pain was now rushing at her all at once.

"It's okay baby, the nurses are coming,"

She stroked the side of her face gently, wanting to kiss her, wanting to hold her, but knowing that she needed to feel the air on her body again.

Brittany stared at her, with this glazed over expression as though nothing made any sense, and then she said the one thing that made all the perfectness disappear.

"Who are you?"

Santana stilled as the nurse's crashed into the room; instructions flowed around her and her entire will to live suddenly jumped from the window ledge.

* * *

><p><strong>Five weeks, 1 day, 1 hour ago<strong>

The emergency ward was full of faces that had fear and confusion written all over them. Almost like each person knew the reason they were there, but at the same time didn't know what was going to happen. Brittany had been rushed into intensive care for emergency surgery. Santana had barely managed to stay conscious in the ambulance. Her hands were shaking so violently, she couldn't grip Brittany's. She had never been able to not hold Brittany's hand. Kurt had followed behind and called Rachel and Quinn on the way.

They were sitting bunched together on chairs in the emergency bay whilst Santana paced up and down the corridor.

_Everything was going to be fine, everything was going to be okay._

"Miss Lopez?"

Santana's ears shot towards the call of her name and she saw a middle aged man walking towards her. His coat looked like snow, his grey hair reclined and his black rimmed glasses sat precariously on the edge of his crooked nose.

"Yes," she said barely audible.

"Miss Lopez my name is Dr Anderson, Brittany came to me through intensive care,"

"Please," Santana begged

"Miss Lopez, Brittany's injuries are extensive, she has just been through critical neurosurgery and an operation to the left of her brain. Due to the severe impact of the crash, we have had to place her into an induced coma. She has an extremely long recovery, at present she is being kept alive by a life support machine,"

"What does that mean?" she demanded.

Dr Anderson opened his mouth before closing it again.

"Tell me the truth," she said, the lump had grown so big in her throat she doubted whether she was actually coherently speaking.

"Santana, I cannot tell you if Brittany will ever come out of the coma,"

It was like ice had hit her all at once, that burning sensation, it prickled at her skin, burning through her body in a fury that did not want to show any remorse.

"Tell me the chances, tell me the chances of her waking up,"

Dr Anderson looked her squarely in the eye, "Three percent,"

Rachel and Quinn caught her as Santana's legs gave out beneath her.


	6. Chapter 5

**Hey my little readers, how we going so far, understanding? I'm writing this as I go, so as i said bare with me! I have tendencies to get new ideas when i've already posted something. So fair warning i may rearrange a chapter or two if i need to haha!**

**Also! Britney vs BRITTANY haha... microsoft auto correct hates me! i will fix the spelling mistakes guys, just give me time okay!**

**i'll let you get back to it :)**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 5<strong>

_Don't close the book, keep it open, keep it open for me_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

In the past week, Santana had pulled a veil over her existence, she had withdrawn into a shell and wasn't intent on coming out until her fiancé's memory was alive.

"Miss Lopez?"

Santana looked up from where she had been leaning on the vending machine, in the corridor just outside Brittany's new assigned room. She had become so accustomed to the Intensive Care Unit; she wasn't familiar on how to navigate herself around the general care ward. It felt strange; she didn't dare want to stray far from Brittany.

Dr Anderson stood before her, he looked at her with a face that suggested there wasn't any other way he could give her the information, without her heart dropping from her body.

"Since we discharged Brittany from ICU we've kept her under close observation. We've run medical examinations and head scans, and had three separate specialists examine her,"

"And?" Santana asked, medical terminology had become like a friend, she was just about ready to sit for her Phd in medical science.

"Miss Lopez, your fiancé has extensive bruising to the left side of her brain. At present we're looking at a very serious case of amnesia,"

"You mean brain damage?"

Dr Anderson inhaled slightly, "Santana, Brittany is very lucky to be alive, but because of the extent of her injuries, as well as the length of her coma, it's not possible to conclude if or when her memory will return,"

Santana fought her emotions trying to jump from her mind.

"What does it mean for her, what does it mean for us?"

"Again, Santana, it is difficult to determine at this stage of her recovery. Brittany is extraordinarily lucky to have even woken up on her own. However, depending on the nature of the damage, we might find that she has lost motor skills, her ability to read or to write. Santana, the brain is a very delicate thing, its complex and subtle and deeply unpredictable,"

"But she's forgotten me! She doesn't even know who I am, the last thing she remembers is going for ice-cream with her father! Her father died when she was eighteen!"

"A common symptom of amnesia is the loss of the ability to recognise faces, which it appears, Brittany unfortunately is showing,"

_Unfortunately? What kind of a word is that, yes unfortunately your finance has forgotten who you are, _Santana resisted the urge to say something nasty.

"What do I do?"

Dr Anderson rubbed his hands together, "It's very important to take things as slowly as possible. Brittany's earliest memory is from when she was a child. That being said Santana, she does not recognise any of the major stages in her life. Major stages such as high school friendships, or your relationship,"

Santana stilled, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it is in Brittany's best interests if she recounts things correctly, within time. Her brain needs to heal Santana; any stress could distinguish any form of progression,"

"Our relationship is not stress," she replied hotly, "I'm marrying her for Christ sake,"

Dr Anderson held his hands up, "Santana I am not implying that, but Brittany is my patient, and I need you to cooperate with me,"

"What else could happen?"

He sighed, looking at her earnestly, "She could no longer recognise that her limbs are hers, she may have lost the ability to formulate memories, to be able to distinguish the simplest of objects,"

"God," Santana whimpered.

"Miss Lopez, I do not want you to jump to conclusions. Brittany's progression and recovery is being monitored by our best nurses and staff. They will be there with her every step of the way to talk about rehabilitation goals and these results will be recorded every day. I need you to stay strong; Brittany will need your support,"

"She can't even look at me, she's so scared of everything around her that isn't a doctor,"

He nodded, "For the most part she will be scared, but be patient Miss Lopez, be patient and let us do our jobs,"

Santana watched him walk down the corridor, before abandoning the vending machine and creeping towards Brittany's door. She couldn't bring herself to go back inside. She couldn't see that frightened face, trying to grasp who Santana was.

Instead she fell against the wall, slipping down and falling to the ground, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her head on her knees. She wept silently, trying to find solitude in the knowledge that the love of her life was awake and breathing on her own. But those eyes, those eyes that had always found hers, they had opened, and instead of finding Santana's; instead of locking, they had looked away. Santana had never felt pain, like the pain of looking at the person who she loved and having them look away.

"San,"

She glanced up, hurriedly wiping her eyes to disguise her silent breakdown. It was no use, the mascara had run, she already knew she was a mess.

Rachel crouched down beside her, armed with a packet of tissues.

"Starch," she whispered.

Rachel seemed to soften at the mention of her college nickname again.

She dabbed Santana's eyes, before curling up beside her.

"Why aren't you at work?"

"Santana," she reminded, "I own a Broadway production company, I am the boss! I make the rules,"

Santana felt herself marvel at her all over again. Twenty five and she'd already shot straight to the top. But that was Rachel Berry.

"What has the doctor said?"

"The same thing really, the damage is too fresh, they won't know the full extent until the bruising has subsided and they can run more tests,"

"Does she?" Rachel paused momentarily, as though trying to muster up the courage to say what she needed to next, "Does she still not remember you?"

Santana felt her lip quiver all over again, "No,"

"Oh San," Rachel muttered, as she leant into her, Santana beginning to cry all over again.

"I have something for you,"

"Please Rachel," she murmured, "I don't want another one of your meditation tapes, this is a completely different type of stress that no amount of yoga is going to fix,"

Rachel seemed shell shocked for a moment, as though she wanted to protest the effectiveness of her meditation tapes. She regathered her thoughts and pulled a notebook from her bag.

Rachel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, before opening them and shoving the book into Santana's hands.

"San," she said, "We don't know how long this will last. But right now Brittany needs you more than ever. Her life is you Santana; you need to help her remember,"

Santana looked down at the notebook, Rachel had scribbled Brittany in the corner, she knew almost immediately what Rachel was implying.

"But what if I can't remember?"

Rachel leant closer, closing all the space between them, and slipping her arm around shoulders.

"You can remember, just start from the beginning Santana, start from the beginning and retrace your steps. Help Brittany open her eyes,"

Santana glanced down at the A4 binder book in her arms, _retrace the steps it took to get here, help Brittany remember._

* * *

><p><em>Let's start from the beginning.<em>

_Open your eyes B, it's me. I've been here all along._

_Sophomore Year_

* * *

><p><strong><em>BACK THEN<em>**

Santana sat with her legs outstretched, watching as the rays from the sun were slowly turning her legs golden. She moved her cheerio's uniform an inch upwards, so her thighs could be exposed as well.

"Mrs Pillsbury was talking about how her son burnt her last week; I thought that was so mean of him,"

Santana opened her eyes to look at Brittany sitting beside her, her exposed midriff a slightly pink colour because she didn't tan as easily.

"Britts, Ms Pillsbury doesn't have a son?"

"Well she said he still burnt her even though she bought sunscreen, so maybe she bought him at the same time. I'd totally return him,"

Santana forced herself to close her mouth, _god she needed to teach the girl things before senior year._

"Santana," Brittany quipped gazing over at her.

"Hmmm" she replied almost insolate, the sun made her so drowsy sometimes she forgot where she was.

"I'm really glad you started talking to me again, the only friend I've ever really had was Lord Tubbington my cat, but last week Ms Sylvester said I had to stop bringing him to school. He kept crawling out of my school bag,"

Santana smiled, Brittany Pierce had always been so innocent and unaware of everything going on around her. She had sat next to Santana almost all of elementary, been in her classes in nearly every junior year until Santana's Dad had packed them up and moved to Los Angeles to pursue his medical career in private practice. Not even two years later and insert divorce papers and suddenly she found herself moving back to Ohio with her over eccentric mother and being re-enrolled in McKinley High. A sophomore and her life was starting all over again. She'd just turned sixteen and suddenly she found herself with all these life decisions that she wasn't prepared for.

"Do you like being a cheerleader?" Santana asked her.

Brittany turned to her, "I like dancing, it's kinda the same,"

"Only Sue Sylvester is a monster machine and if we decide to eat for the day, we need to schedule a bathroom appointment to throw it back up again,"

Santana sat upright, as Quinn Fabray made her way up the bleachers, her golden hair splayed across her uniform; books in one hand and water bottle in the other.

"I didn't think you were so focused on studies Quinn," Santana said eyeing the binder folder.

"Q," she corrected her, sitting down.

"What?"

"Q," Brittany smiled, "Call her Q now,"

Santana nodded shifting and pulling her uniform so it sat properly.

"You dance well Santana, you're a good asset to the Cheerios'," Quinn said glaring at her.

Santana stared back, she wasn't afraid of Quinn Fabray, even in junior high, when she had threatened to spike her juice box with protein and fat enhancers, so she would never become a cheerio, Santana had always spoken back when needed.

"Didn't think I'd be back did you?"

Quinn smirked, "No I didn't, but sophomore year is a whole set of new rules, we have a goal now, we finish first at every major cheerleading competition and maybe we'll get out of here,"

Santana raised her eyebrows, "I did get out,"

Quinn scoffed in response, "Yeah a one way ticket to nowhere, riding with Mummy and Daddy and look where that got you, right back where you started, rely on no one Santana, no one but yourself,"

"You can rely on me," Brittany quipped, reaching and brushing her fingertips along Santana's arm.

That was the first time; Santana had ever felt shivers from someone's touch.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

_With eyes wide shut and hearts so open, where do we bleed when the wounds are closed?_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Puck stood in the doorway of the hospital room, his arms folded across his chest.

"Go home," Santana said without looking up, _catcher in the rye_ sat opened in her lap, as Brittany slept in the bed beside her. Santana was playing a game, sneaking into the room when she knew Brittany was sound asleep, just so she could see her, touch her, feel her presence without startling her like Dr Anderson had asked her no to do.

"I think you should be directing that comment at yourself," he responded.

Santana raised her eyebrows, "I think not,"

Puck sighed sharply, "Santana you can't keep doing this, you haven't stepped foot in that apartment in over five weeks. Rachel is in hysterics because your bills haven't been paid, your landlord called her a miniature Chihuahua the other day, and your agent has left I don't know how many messages, he's moved on to calling your mother back in Ohio,"

Santana felt the slightest sense of urgency when he mentioned her mother. _Would she know what to do to help Britt remember?_

"Puckerman," she said glaring at him and instantly he straightened, when Santana used his high school nickname, it meant she didn't intend on being nice.

"I am staying right where I am,"

He brushed his hands down his unshaven face, "So every time Britt wakes up from sleeping, you're just going to duck out into the hall are you? While the doctors run the tests that you already know the answers to,"

"Dr Anderson said changes can happen every day,"

"Yes Santana," Puck replied impatiently, "He also said it could take months before any of those changes actually occur,"

There was a murmur and a stir and Santana realised with a panic that Brittany was waking up. She went to move herself from the room, before realising that instead of waking up, Brittany was actually awake.

She stared at Santana and then at Puck before frowning, "Do you have the wrong room?"

"Brittany," Santana murmured. It was the first time she had heard Brittany's voice properly. It sounded so husky, like when she got colds in the winter, it had always turned Santana on.

"How do you know who I am?" she asked warily, pulling herself up against the pillows slightly.

"It's me Santana," she said. _God that sounded so stupid_ and was the complete opposite of what Dr Anderson had instructed. But she had been caught off guard, what was she supposed to do, tell her that she was from the ministry and she was here to read her the bible?

"I don't know who you are," Brittany said softly.

"Yes you do," Santana replied moving forward and reaching for Brittany's hand.

Brittany immediately pulled it away from her, drawing the blankets over her body and shaking her head.

"Please," she begged, "Please just leave me alone,"

All the air seemed to leave Santana's body; she felt the tears well in her eyes, as she stumbled backwards nearly colliding with Puck still in the doorframe.

"Santana," he said urgently, reaching for her.

Santana pulled away from his outstretched hands before taking off down the corridor.

Santana ran all the way through the exit doors and out into the hospital car park, by the time she reached the railing she was sobbing so hard she could barely stand up right. She gripped the metal beneath her hands, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to contain herself. So many images flashed before her, like a movie that she had never wanted to see. Brittany lying in a pool of blood, Brittany unconscious, Brittany surviving only by a machine; and it all lead to this? It all lead to the look she had just given Santana, the words she had just uttered. How could she possibly stop herself from slipping away, when the one person that had always known her, now knew her the least out of everyone?

She sunk to her knees, pressing her forehead against the cool metal pole and allowing the deep shudders of her body to rip into the cool afternoon air.

Before she had the chance to even think about containing herself, she felt her body being pulled upright, and arms engulfed her. They held her tightly, acting as a stich to sew back the seams that had come undone. They held her so tightly she thought the air was being sucked from her lungs. She knew this embrace; it was the same embrace that had apologised the night of her high school graduation. "_I'm sorry for not supporting you Santana," he had said, "It was immature and I'm sorry. I don't care if you're gay, I will always support you, in everything you do,"_

"I can't do this," she cried into his chest, "I just can't do this,"

"You can," Puck said adamantly, "You can and you will,"

He pushed her in front of him, gripping her shoulders and forcing her to stand straight so he could look at her.

"You are going to go home. You are going to shower properly. Wash your bag full of clothes and clean the apartment you and Brittany own together. Then you are going to sit down, and you are going to think of all the ways you can remind Brittany that you are the girl she is going to marry,"

"Puck," Santana stammered, "Dr Anderson said I can't dump things on her. Her memory is a healing process; any stress could cause a relapse or make it worse,"

He shrugged, "I don't mean straight away Santana. I mean you are going to allow the doctors to do their job, and in the mean time you are to do exactly what Rachel told you to do. Do you understand?"

"Write everything down," she murmured. She felt like a school girl again, the same seventeen year old school girl who had just come out to her friends.

"No more crumbling Santana," he said shaking her slightly, "This is not the Santana I know,"

"I feel so broken," she whispered.

"This is why we're here. We were there when you two came out; we were there when you two broke up, there when you got back together and there when you proposed. We've been here all along,"

Santana reached upwards and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as she could possibly muster.

"Thank you," she whispered and she felt Puck smile into her hair.

. . .

The apartment didn't really look any different. Other than the fact she knew Rachel had been here. She knew because small little star posted notes had been planted all over the house with instructions on the way in which Rachel Berry would be cleaning or storing things, therefore Santana and Brittany should follow her advice. After Santana tossed her clothes into the washing machine and switched the kettle on, she began to realise, that Rachel had literally labelled just about everything.

_Do not wash. Rinse cloth under tap water and wipe down_, was stuck to the sandwich presser that had been left out on the bench. Santana felt her insides tick over at the thought, that the last thing she had made Brittany was a stupid damn sandwich. Why couldn't the last thing have been a song, or made her dinner by candlelight.

It had to be a stupid sandwich?

The answering machine on the bench was flashing a number that Santana did not want to admit to herself. It was blinking so aggressively at her, she felt exhausted just looking at it. Instead she moved towards the machine and pressed delete on all the messages, they wiped as clean from the screen as Brittany's memory had been wiped from her mind. There were so many things that Santana cound't understand right now. Like the way time works the way it does, where dollar bills or pennies go when she would lose them. How you can see yourself so clearly on certain sheets of metal but not others. How some days all your subway trains will come on time, but the bus will be late, and vice versa, its never in sync, one is either on time while the other is late. Most of all she couldn't understand how the word love can be expected to mean so much. Every time over the past five weeks, she had tried to explain it, she had just ended up with words like _her_ and _Brittany_ and _always_. What if it took a million light years for Brittany to come back to her? She would never doubt that she would wait that long. She just wondered if the world would wait with her.

She braced herself before entering their bedroom. The bed had been remade, because she didn't remember the quilt being completely crease free from when Britney had been last sprawled across her lap. _God how was she supposed to sleep in that without her_?She couldn't, she wouldn't be able to, it would feel like an empty ship, wrecked and broken with no one to help her steer.

Moving towards their closet, she began to pick up all the clothes that had fallen off the coat hangers. She lifted the box of high heels that neither of them wore anymore and stood on her tip toes to push it back onto the shelf above the wardrobe. Consequently, Brittany was always the strongest out of either of them. So Santana couldn't seem to hold the weight of the box, she muffled in irritancy, as she toppled to the side and the box fell from her arms. She huffed angrily, reefing her hand outwards and sliding the box back across the floor. Not before she caught a glimpse of a red and white uniform that she hadn't seen since the day she graduated. Gingerly, she placed her hands into the box and pulled out the old cheerio's cheerleading uniform she had lived in through most of her sophomore and senior year. She knew it was hers, Santana knew this was her uniform from the small stain just above the shoulder. Brittany had promised that Santana would be able to feel her kiss even through material, and when Santana had disagreed she had placed her lips to her shoulder. Brittany had left a lip gloss stain, that no amount of stain removal Santana's mother used seem to remove it from the white lines. She was right though, even through the uniform, Santana had felt Brittany's kiss.

Santana brought the uniform to her chest, hugging it briefly and closing her eyes. This was the thing she wore in nearly all the important moments of her high school life. It still smelt like high school, it still smelt exactly the way McKinely High had smelt, of fresh autumn pollen and slushies. _Please_, Santana whispered, _please help her remembe_r.

* * *

><p><strong>Back then<strong>

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Sophomore year, in the beginning._

"I don't know," Santana objected quietly, as she stood with Quinn and Brittany at the lockers.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Quinn snapped, "If Ms Sylvester clicks her fingers we obey, end of story,"

"By singing _say a little prayer_ for some singing club?"

Quinn huffed, turning to Santana, "We're spies Santana! Can you just pay attention for once?"

"Like James Bond," Brittany smiled, "Only we can sing,"

Santana smirked slightly, "Fine, but if I have to talk to that Berry girl I'm out. Last week someone told me that if she sneezed on you, you could catch dwarfism,"

Quinn shot her a glare that seemed far too over dramatic for what Santana had just generously whipped up, "You're meant to laugh Q," she said.

Quinn brushed it off before leaning into the door of the classroom and peering around the frame.

"Are they in there?" Brittany asked standing on her tip toes.

"Yes," Quinn muttered, "It's now or never,"

Before either of them even had time to think, she had stalked into the room, head held high and demanded that Mr Schue give them a chance to audition for his Glee club.

_"Glee Club?"_ Santana had asked Brittany at lunch earlier, _"What is that?"_

_"I don't really know,"_ she had responded, _"but someone told me its where you sing and dance and be happy, so I'm kinda glad Ms Sylvester is forcing us to be in there,"_

Santana had never let anyone hear her sing, other than Brittany when they were freshman's, but that was before she moved away and she had sworn that Brittany had forgotten all about it. Apparently she was wrong, because Brittany winked at her before the music was clicked on. Will Schuester was Santana's spanish teacher. Frankly she spoke it better than what he did, and he had the biggest collection of vests, she swore he was secretly a member of the twelve step program. Even so, she was now going to sing and dance in front of him in the hopes that he appointed them to his little club so they could in turn sabotage it for their cheerleading coach. She wasn't really sure how she had gotten into this situation. She just wanted to go sit on the bleachers with Britt and watch as her skin turned golden and Brittany moaned that she had more in common with a lobster than anyone else in the entire town.

As soon as they had finished the routine, Quinn stood with her hands on her hips in a typical, _I'm here and im staying pose_ that she threw around like loose change.

Santana eyed Finn Hudson sitting in the back row. He reminded her one of those overgrown cabbage patch kids who looked dorky, but played on the football team so was hot at the same time. Somehow she was wondering if Quinn was only so obliging to Ms Sylvester's plans because she wanted her Quarterback boyfriend out of the Glee club and back into normal status quo territory.

"Mr Schuester, while Quinn, Santana and Brittany are to be applauded for their somewhat almost there memorable rendition of a Dionne Warwick classic, I must insist that Glee club is for those who are truly passionate about song and dance,"

"I love dance!" Brittany echoed.

Rachel bit her lip slightly, and Santana could have sworn if the girl did not have a cholesterol problem, she did now.

Brittany smiled slightly, before she twirled her body into the centre of the classroom, and shuffled her feet along the surface. The move was so quick and so cleverly formulated, Santana's jaw nearly dropped opened.

Mr Schue stared at her, "Brittany that was a nice in sync tap move you had there,"

Brittany beamed, "Mum says I think with my feet not my head,"

Santana couldn't help but smile.

"Mr Schue," Rachel said again, "Glee club is full,"

"Rachel," he frowned, "Glee club is not full! Glee club is for anyone who wants to join!"

Santana looked at the other class mates who she vaguely remembered from junior high. There was that gospel chick that had always sung at assembly, and secretly made Santana jealous of her power ballads, even though it would take the shutdown of taco bell for her to admit that. There was a couple of Asians who she had never even bothered to note existed and the kid in a wheelchair, who also wore glasses. _Four wheeler_, she muttered under her breath.

There was a squeak of shoes and a "Sorry I'm late Mr Schue," before Noah Puckerman walked into the class room, slinging his backpack into the corner without so much as a flinch as it collided with the chairs stacked on the side. He sat down next to Finn.

"What did I miss?"

"The cheerios' invading glee club," Rachel moaned dramatically.

Puck smiled, crossing his arms across his chest, "Nice Mr Schue, have you seen how high those skirts rise?"

"Puck," he warned, raising his eyebrows, before turning to them his arms poised as though he was surrendering, "Welcome to Glee club girls,"

As Santana had sat next to Brittany she had noticed all but one thing, Rachel Berry's face had turned white.


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

_Colors run through our lives, like water slips through our hands_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

The red had run through all the clothes, as Santana pulled them from the machine, she felt this undesirable feeling to vomit. Red sprayed through the t-shirts and pants and she felt the image of that day rush at her. Sitting in the ambulance, her shirt covered in Brittany's blood, as she tried to desperately wipe the red from her hands. Everything now reminded her of those moments. She had not worn the colour red since, and now because her mind was so disillusioned she had mixed her whites with colours and instead of fresh laundry, she wanted to throw everything away. Every car horn she heard reminded her of the person who had failed to stop at the traffic lights. She had dropped her mug last night and as it had shattered to the floor her heart had stopped. She hadn't been able to pick up the pieces for an hour.

Santana dropped the wet clothes into a basket, before lifting it from the floor and making her way out into the living room. She slid the glass doors open with her foot and proceeded to hang the clothes from the line running from one side of their balcony to the other. The sun had been out and shining all day, she could feel its heat even though she was only wearing a tank and tee. She loved New York. She'd loved it from the first moment they'd moved here. How you could feel the beads of sweat between your shoulder blades in the summer, but needed to shield yourself with a coat in the winter. The seasons changed with you, almost like the universe felt all the emotions you did. She finished hanging out their stained and mostly ruined clothes, before moving back into the apartment. Her eyes fell over the cabinet in the corner, full of all Brittany's dance trophies. She moved towards it, bending slightly as her eyes washed over the certificates piled inside as well. All throughout high school she'd struggled to decide what college to go to. Struggled with whether she wanted to be safe and do a business management course, hopefully get a job in event management, or pursue a career in singing. Mr Schuester had always taught her, all of them, that if she really wanted to, she could have both. When she told her mother she had been accepted into Julliard, she had laughed and asked if she was joking. It was the exact same response she had given when Santana had said she was gay. But that was her mother.

Santana brushed her fingertips over the glass, trying to come to terms with the way her life had been before Brittany's accident. They had both graduated from Julliard. Santana had started an internship with _Atlas Talent Agency_, and by default they had discovered her own talent. She'd made three albums with her agent and producer Andrew Adams, and was now well recognised in the industry. She had been so busy working with him and recruiting new talent, that Rachel had even asked her to help her find talent for her new Broadway production _New York in the Snow_. Brittany had toured with a dance company straight after college graduation, when things hadn't been so good. But then all of a sudden she'd arrived on Santana's doorstep nine months later, dripping wet from the rain, and said she couldn't live without her anymore. Within weeks she had been picked up by Westchester Dance Academy and was teaching, and completing her master's on the side. Rachel and Quinn were there every step of the way, and the world just seemed to breathe right alongside them. She drew a shuddering breath, as she looked away from all the accolades they had accumulated. Nothing seemed to measure up to how she felt right now. Not this pent house apartment they'd bought together last year and now lived in. The property they owned in L.A, or the Lexus that sat in the underground car park, nothing measured up to how meaningless everything was without Brittany.

_How was she supposed to return to the life they had built, when Brittany had no recollection of it?_

Santana looked at all the bills Rachel had left on the countertop above the entertainment unit. They were stacked so high, she felt sick knowing she would eventually have to open them. She didn't know how to express how she felt anymore. She had responsibilities that had continued on around her while she had waited beside Brittany's motionless body for five weeks. She had medical expenses to think about, people to contact. _God how was she supposed to tell anyone what had happened?_

Her phone called out to her, buzzing from where she had left it on the coffee table, as she reached for it, she remembered the night before the accident, Brittany had been sitting there laughing over Santana's old child photos. Quinn was organising a slide show for their wedding and had instructed them to pull out as many photos as they had. Brittany had cried laughter over Santana's apparent moustache when she'd been thirteen or so.

"Motana," she had teased, "We'll call it Motana and the Motown classics,"

Santana had pinned her the floor, wrestling the photo from her hands, they'd made love right there and then, because Brittany had told her, she would still marry her even if she was literally a moustache.

Pressing her memory from her mind, she reached for the phone, feeling relief as Rachel's face took up the display picture.

"Rach," she breathed.

"San," she said matter of factly, "I'm very please you're back home,"

Santana cocked an eyebrow, "Rachel you labelled the apartment like a colour me code book,"

She sighed, "It had to be done,"

"Rachel I don't…"

"Santana, please just listen to me,"

Santana closed her mouth.

"I called some people, some of your associates, some of Brittany's associates, to tell them what has happened. I didn't think you should do it, I thought it would be too hard,"

Santana felt this sudden urge to reach through the phone and grab the girl so she could hug her.

"I didn't even think about that," Santana barely managed.

"San, it's okay alright, everything is going to be okay,"

"Rachel please don't say that, I have the doctors telling me exactly the same thing every time I ring the hospital, and I don't need you saying it as well, I just need the truth, so please for christ sake, just don't sugar coat anything. Don't tip toe around me, it's the last thing I need,"

There was a breath inhaled on the other end, "Okay, well Mercedes, Tina and Mike send their love, they're staying put for now. Puck is still here, although I don't know where exactly Quinn has taken him this morning. And Artie, well he left last night,"

"You mean he went back to Ohio?"

"Well Santana, its difficult with him and the chair, there are added expenses and facilities that he probably just feels more comfortable at home,"

"Comfortable! Brittany needs support, how comfortable do you think she is right now!"

Rachel sighed again, "Santana,"

Her words seemed to calm her, she just had to say her name in this matter of fact tone and instantly Santana always knew she had to pull her head in.

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No," Santana said eyeing the book beside her handbag, "I want to write some stuff down,"

Santana could almost see Rachel's beaming through the phone, "Okay San, that's a good idea,"

Santana let the phone drop from her ear, before reaching over and taking the book within her hands. She curled up on the lounge and hugged it for a moment. They would watch old episodes of Sweet Valley High curled up under this blanket. Brittany would always end up falling asleep in Santana's arms and she would just watch her. She could watch her all night if she wanted to, and then in the morning she would wake her up with kisses and suddenly every day seemed that much brighter. She wanted Brittany, god she just wanted her here.

* * *

><p><strong><em>BACK THEN<em>**

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Sophomore Year, the beginning._

"I think I look more like baby spice,"

Santana looked up from where she had been trolling Rachel Berry's MySpace videos. To see Brittany standing in front of the mirror her hair tied in two identical pigtails.

It made Santana laugh, "Britts, you look five!"

She smiled sheepishly, before making her way to where Santana was curled in her pillows. She settled down beside her, to watch the videos with Santana.

"This is the best part," Santana snickered, rewinding to where Rachel hits the high note, "She's crying at her own performance,"

Brittany tilted her head, "San, do you like being in Glee club?"

Santana stilled for a moment, pausing Rachel's rendition of _Crush_ by Mandy Moore, "Brittany being in glee club is just pretend, we're not really in the club, we're just spies for Ms Sylvester,"

"Yes but the other day Mercedes gave me half her sandwich because I forgot to bring mine, and I thought sharing food meant your friends?"

"No it doesn't Britt, you're not friends with them, and we're cooler than that,"

"But Santana, you share your food with me,"

No one had ever melted her before with words, just one simple response made Santana see things that usually she just overlooked. You grow up knowing one thing, and then your parents move you to some place you're not familiar with, you leave all your freshman friends to try and make new ones that don't seem to see things the way you do. To then one day your mother screams at you in Spanish that you're both leaving your father. Then you return sophomore year back where you started, and everyone still remembers you, but you don't remember half of them. They've changed and grown, they're not thirteen year olds anymore, and you're left trying to figure out who the hell to be friends with.

"I know I do Britt,"

"So that makes us friends doesn't it?"

"It does make us friends," she nodded.

"Santana I really like dancing and singing in Glee club, being in there makes me feel happier,"

Santana looked back at Rachel's videos, and she felt the truth surge up from her stomach and enter her thoughts, "She _is_ really talented," she murmured.

Brittany smiled in response, "I think everyone's talented in glee club,"

Santana couldn't refuse her this small bit of happiness, even though she herself seemed to be programmed a different way. They were in the Cheerio's. Boys drooled over them when they walked down the hall. They had power, and control, and to suddenly be sitting alongside kids who had slushies thrown in their faces by the football team, it was too hard for her to comprehend. When did high school start developing a balance, when could you be one thing and another without the repercussions?

She'd spoken to soon though, as her phone vibrated and Quinn's message flashed before the screen.

_Finn and I were just slushied coming out of fifth period. The only reason you and Britts were safe is because you're cutting class. This sucks._

Santana gulped slightly, word had spread out. She wasn't on one team anymore, god she needed to find some familiarity soon or something was going to tick over.

"Santana,"

She drew her eyes away from her phone to look back at the laptop now sitting in Brittanys lap. She had Santana's MySpace open and was looking at her photos. The one from when she stood outside the _Sony Record Label_ studios with the biggest smile on her face, because her Dad had just introduced her to Kelly Clarkson.

Brittany looked at her, pointing at the screen, "You have the prettiest eyes,"

Santana's breath fell short of escaping her mouth as she looked back at Brittany smiling. It was the first time her eyes had locked with anyone's. _Familiarity_, Brittany was her familiarity. Maybe nothing else mattered.

**. . .**

"She stole my boyfriend!"

"Q, calm down, you're going to get wrinkles," Santana said patting her back, it was so awkard, because Quinn was so riled up, Santana believed she would literally burn the bleachers down with her tantrum.

"Quinn, I've always thought you could do a lot better than Finn,"

"That is not the point, the point is he is quarterback and I'm head cheerleader. That is the way it is supposed to go! Glee Club is ruining everything!"

Brittany sat up from where she had been stretched out in the sun, Santana tried no to look at her mid drift exposed in the sunlight. She couldn't work out whether it was a trick of the sun, or Brittany's skin actually glistened. _God Santana what's wrong with you, the boys, there's football boys on the field, look there!_

"Q," she said her eyebrows narrowing and making her best serious face, to which Santana melted all over again.

"You told me that Finn's kisses grossed you out,"

Quinn snapped her eyes to look at her, "Britts," she reasoned, "Finn and I are meant to be together until senior year, and then we'll be homecoming king and queen. He'll get and job and I'll stay home to mind the kids,"

Santana snorted, "Christ, you're children would look like the Quasimodo's,"

Quinn's eyes narrowed at her sharply, "and what Santana, will your children be born with implants,"

Santana stood up immediately, "You damn well know that's a rumour," she responded.

Quinn moved towards her, and Santana had this feeling they were about to literally fight.

"Stop the violence," Brittany said suddenly, "Quinn if you want to be with Finn then we will have to win him back for you. And Santana I like your boobs, I think they're nice,"

Quinn's confused face seemed to drain all the tension from the air as she stared at her.

"I don't care what happens; I just want Berry to know her place in this school,"

Santana sat back down, wincing as the hot metal bit into her skin; Rachel had never been one to go around stealing people's boyfriends. It wasn't as though she was a saint and didn't believe in competition, because Christ the girl had fits if anyone else demanded a solo, but her confidence was masked, Santana had always seen straight threw her. There had to be a reason that Finn was suddenly interested in her. Things needed to go back to normal, the world was spinning and Santana had no control. This was not an option.


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

_I wrote you all those songs once, if I wrote them again would you remember?_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

The other day, a man had been standing behind Santana as she waited in line at the post office. She hadn't even said anything to prompt a conversation, but he recognised her immediately and had said how much her first album "_Little songs for you_" had changed his life. He had talked to her about how after two years of separation his wife had come to him to resolve their issues. They had met, laughed and chatted for nearly four hours and then as she had gotten up to leave, she had handed him a large envelope. In it were the eleven songs from Santana's album that she had hand written on a piece of paper, and then wrote why it related to him and her. She had titled it "_Songs I was too stubborn to send,_"

Santana had fought the rest of the fifteen minutes in the line, not to break down and cry in front of him.

"Santana, come back,"

She drew eyes from where she had been absentmindedly staring at the oak stains on the surface of the table. Aged oak lines, like a tree never forgets its roots, never forgets what each line means, why wasn't Brittany like a tree.

She stared at Puck sitting opposite her, "Are you sure you're okay with me going home?"

Santana waved her hand, "Puckerman don't be stupid, you have a job and a wife!"

"Gabrielle understands San,"

"She needs you," she whispered, and his eyes told her that he understood.

"Do you need me to take you to JFK?"

"No, its okay, Rachel is,"

Santana smiled slightly, "Forever organised," she whispered and Puck grasped his hands around his mug in front of them.

"Forever Rachel Berry," he corrected.

There was a jingle and a door opening, and in a sweep of a coat, Kurt had siddled in the booth beside Puck and raised his hand to signal Tate behind the counter.

"Kurt," Santana said raising an eyebrow, "You can't just wave your hand around and expect him to bow,"

Kurt looked at Santana with his eyes wide, "Santana, I did my duty, I waited outside every record store in London, and bought an album from each one. And I made sure to hunt down anyone who wanted to illegally download your songs. I have every right to your fame as you do, probably more,"

She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile, was she allowed to smile? When was the cut-off point? This wasn't death, although it felt like it, some days she woke up and felt the grief pour from her body. But there was no scripted stages for people waiting. There was no rule book for how long you were allowed until you could laugh, how long you were allowed to sit in your room and sob at every single memory you had. How long you were able to hold onto your finances pillow in the night pretending it was her.

"I need to tell you both something,"

Santana looked at Puck and raised her eyebrows.

"Finn called me the other night,"

Puck sprayed his coffee into the air, and Santana dodged to miss the cappuccino soaring into her face, "Puckerman!"

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "Sorry,"

"Anyway", Kurt continued after his disruption, "He wanted to send condolences,"

Santana frowned, "Kurt I haven't spoken to Finn since college, I don't even know where he is,"

"Canada," Kurt said eyeing her, "His mother is still married to my father don't forget,"

"Well yes, but after the whole thing with Quinn and Rachel, he kind of disappeared,"

Puck shrugged, "Dude he didn't even come to my wedding,"

"You eloped," Santana corrected, "None of us did,"

It caused Puck to chuckle, "Christ I miss my wife". He realised what he'd said as Santana's eyes glazed over again and he reached across the table to grab her hand, "Jesus San, forgive me,"

"Forget it," she said shaking her hand, "Gabrielle is beautiful, I'd be missing her too,"

"Santana please talk to us," Kurt said quietly.

She looked at him over the mug that was still steaming coffee, "I'm a mess Kurt, look at me, I don't want to acknowledge any of this is actually happening,"

She felt a sudden panic sweep over her, "Your flight, your flight back to London, you'll be gone and…."

Kurt held up his hand, "It's fine, I've spoken to my boss, he understands. I'm here as long as you need me,"

"Is that the boss that has a crush on you?"

Kurt laughed a moment, "Puck do you even read my emails?"

Noah glanced at him sideways, "Kurt you send me essays. ESSAYS!"

He struggled with this a moment before regaining himself, "No I left the small Camden theatre company ages ago, set my sights on bigger things. And by bigger things I mean the London Pallidium. Such a glorious place,"

Santana smiled, she'd read his email, she'd read all fifteen emails that documented and outlined how he'd managed to become assistant to one of London's largest theatre's director in less than four months. He'd already met Andrew Lloyd Webber, but that was _Kurt Hummel_.

Her phone suddenly seemed to leap from the table in fits of jingles, causing all three to look down at it. Immediately Santana felt her throat close inwards.

"It's Andrew," she whimpered.

Kurt stared at her, "Answer it,"

"I can't, he'll ask about Britt and he'll…"

"For crying out loud Santana the guy made your career, give him the respect and trust he showed you!" Puck said throwing his hands in the air.

Santana looked at him, and then to Kurt and then back to her phone. She answered it and instantly Andrew's voice droned into the receiver.

"Santana, do you have any idea how many times I've been calling you? How many messages I've left. I sent you a hand written letter!"

"Andy," she said, trying to ignore the _I'm your boss who the hell do you think you are_ tone projecting through the phone, "I'm sorry,"

"Brittany," he said admanatly, "I had a phone call from your friend Rachel the other day, she briefly gave me the run down. But honest to god Santana why did you not call me?"

He'd been more of a father to her than her own Dad had been. He'd sent her birthday cards after they'd produced the first album, sent her names of gigs she might like to attend in New York, helped her work out that she really did want to marry Brittany. All this time she had been hiding from him, but maybe it was because he was the one person right now, that held the last bit of normality in her life.

"She doesn't remember who I am Andy," she found herself murmuring, "She's lost me,"

There was a long pause and for a moment Santana thought they'd lost reception, "She's just going to have to find you again Santana, but for the most of it, there are other people out in the world that need you, I need you, the company needs you. Look you take all the time you need, but just don't forget about us okay,"

She nodded, and then felt stupid because he couldn't see her, and then felt relieved that he couldn't see her because she had tears streaming down her face like a little girl who'd just been told that it was okay to be scared, and all the impromptu tears she had built up were now spilling out like a water fountain.

She hung up and managed to control her breathing.

"Should I just go back and immerse myself in work?"

Puck sat back in the booth, "You just do everything that feels right San, don't let yourself waste away though,"

"She won't" Kurt said defiantly, "because I'm not going anywhere. Besides, between Rachel's posted notes and everything else the girl comes up with I highly doubt San will be going anywhere, other than back into Britts mind,"

"I love you," she whispered, and then looked at Puck, "I love you both,"

* * *

><p><strong>Back Then<strong>

_Open your eyes B, its me, I've been here all along_

Sophomore year, some time past the beginning

Brittany dragged Santana up the drive way, as she struggled to carry both their backpacks.

"Britt," she said half tripping, half running into the side of her balcony, "Slow down!"

"No they're back! They're back and I want you to meet them…" she paused a moment, causing Santana to just about crash side long into her, "Well meet them again," she corrected herself.

Santana rolled her eyes as Brittany pushed open her front floor, and forcibly removed their backpacks from Santana's grip, throwing them into the foyer.

"Mum, Dad!" she called.

"In here sweetheart!"

Brittany bounded into the lounge room, as Santana followed and suddenly there were suitcases sprawled across the floor, paper was strewn everywhere showing various ornaments that Brittany's parents had brought back with them, from wherever they had been.

Brittany excitedly ran into their arms as they hugged her, gushing over how tall she'd grown.

"Never leave me again!" she said crossing her arms, "Three months is too long!"

Santana thought that maybe three months wasn't too long, because she had been allowed to sleep over when ever she wanted with no parental supervision, so pillow fights and riding Brittany's mattress down the stair case had been as common as heat waves in the summer.

"Mum," Brittany said, moving around the abnormally large suitcase in the middle of the floor, "Dad, do you remember Santana Lopez?" she made a point to literally point at Santana who slouched a little embarrassed.

"Santana!" Layla Pierce marvelled, "Darling you've grown so much, god I barely recognise you, gosh Michael look how beautiful she is!"

Michael Pierce beamed, "I remember when you were knee high to a grasshopper Santana, always running around in the backyard, playing whatever games you kids would imagine, its good to see you're back!"

Santana smiled, they looked so healthy and happy and together, freshly tanned from the safari they had been on in Africa. They'd been the way she had always remembered, tall lean, bright blue eyes like Britts. They smelt of roses mostly, but maybe that was just the perfume Brittany had located and was now spraying around the house.

"Santana sweetheart, you staying for dinner?"

"Oh," she said caught of guard,

"Yes," Brittany quipped, "We're going to go to the park first, we'll be back before dark?"

"Okay," Layla smiled, "We've got presents for later!"

At this being mentioned Brittanys eyes seemed to glow, and she hugged her parents before rushing to Santana again, and dragging her back out the door. Once they had made their way back down the driveway and slowed to a pace along the pavement, Santana turned to her.

"Britt, do your parents ever fight?"

Brittany shrugged, "Sometimes they do, but over the silliest things. And then one of them always ends up apologising, and then they fight over whose fault it is, before my Daddy brings my Mum into this great big hug and tells her he'll never love anyone else,"

Santana felt her insides melt again. She wondered what had gone so wrong with her parents. Every night her Dad would come home from the hospital, and her mother would start yelling. They'd yell in enlgish and then when they started yelling in Spanish you knew it was getting bad. It would usually result with her mother in tears and her father slamming the door and telling her he was going back to the hospital. Then one night her mother says she'd had enough. She wants a divorce. There was no chances you know, he filed for the paperwork the next day. They didn't even try to think of all the reasons to stay, they just took the one reason to leave and left it at that.

"I'm glad your parents are still together Britt, I'm glad they love each other so much,"

Brittany smiled, "San, if you want, we can share them,"

_She melted again_.

She barely nodded. Brittany lead her across the lane way, and climbed over a broken log before reaching a quiet old paddock with wheat growing along the edges. Santana saw the old rusted playground she use to play on after school when they were in elementary.

"I'll race you," Brittany said her eyes glistening.

Santana immediately took off after her as they pelted towards the swing set, their cheerio's uniform splayed everywhere, and their hair flew out passed them, riding the wind along with them.

They fell into the mulch beside the swing set, in a heap of giggles that neither could stop.

"You run like Forrest Gump," Brittany said pulling herself up and helping Santana up.

"You run like the wind Bullseye," she replied.

Brittany cocked her head for a moment, "I handed my assignment into Mr Schuester the other day and he told me he would fail me if I kept writing my name as Buzz light year on the tests. But I always thought you were supposed to write who you secretly were on those things,"

Santana stared at her a moment, she didn't understand how someone could still be so innocent in a world that was constantly trying to change everything about anyone.

"I'll talk to him Britt,"

She smiled broadly, before stretching her arms and climbing on top of the monkey bars. Santana stood below her, she wanted to faint because she could see straight up Brittany's skirt.

"San come up!"

Santana wrapped her legs around the pole and slid herself onto the bars, moving slightly to try and sit next to Brittany. Low and behold, her shoes were still new and shiny, so she felt herself slip forwards and squealed slightly as her body fell.

Brittany immediately reached out and caught her, Santana dangled a little, trying to pull herself back up again.

"Santana," she said, "Santana trust me, I won't let go!"

Brittany didn't let go that afternoon, she pulled her upwards onto the bars, and they sat there, Brittany holding her hand, until it was time to go inside.

. . .

_A few days later_

Santana settled herself into the booth, and threw her jumper on the space beside her, watching as Brittany straightened herself and glanced at the menu in front of her.

"Did you know its literally illegal to stop serving us breadsticks?"

Santana laughed, she'd been to _Breadsticks_ occasionally when she was a junior, but Brittany had been so adamant about coming more, she'd finally given in after the twentieth time she'd brought it up this week.

"You're obsessed! What are you eating?"

"Can we get meatballs? And eat them like they do in _Lady and the Tramp_, that would be cute,"

Santana raised her eyebrows, Britts, they're dogs, and they eat with their mouths,"

Brittany shrugged, "But it's always been a dream of mine,"

"Breadsticks"

Santana looked at the young waitress who had bought them their first basket, "Keep these coming," she said over the menu.

Brittany reached out and took one, "I love these so much, one time I asked Mum if she could make my bed out of breadsticks, but she said no,"

The look of disappointment on her face made Santana melt, like she usually did, Brittany made her melt like a freaking glacier.

"Brittsticks," she smirked and Brittany looked at her, "You're my Brittsticks,"

There eyes locked for a moment or two, namely because Santana had used the word _my_, for the first time, like she'd put a level of ownership on her, like Brittany was now hers.

Brittany smiled, "I am _your_ Brittsticks,"

That was the first thing that Santana had been able to _have_ without a fight, the first thing that had looked her the eye and said _you can have me_.


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

_They can take you away, but you kissed me first_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Santana stood outside Twelfth Avenue, her coat wrapped firmly around her body, staring up at the agency with _Atlas_ staring blankly down at her. Rachel had somehow convinced her to go back to work this morning.

"_At least go in once a week,"_ she had begged, _"Just to take your mind off things,"  
>"Rachel," <em>Santana had argued, _"I call the hospital every single day, and still nothing,"_  
><em>"Santana,"<em> she had retaliated, _"Go to work. Now!"_

So here she was standing outside her building, its stain glass windows as clear and precise as the talent that was supposed to walk through the doors. The hospital had called her two hours ago, to ask if any of Brittany's immediate family could have been called, or if anyone in blood relation had been contacted or notified.

"I'm the only family she needs," Santana had retorted to which she swore the nurse had quivered on the other line. Santana had immediately felt bad.

"Her parents died when she was still in high school," she had replied. "The only family Britt has is a cousin in Ohio, but other than that it's me, and the family we have built together,"

The nurse had thanked her and promptly hung up. Was that all she was now? Just someone who provided the information? She was Britt's family, Britt was her family. That was how it had been for so long. When did all this go so wrong?

"I think you need to open the door,"

Santana turned slightly to see Joey Folds, standing beside her.

"Joe," she said, not realising that she seemed to sigh at the sight of him.

He smiled broadly, and wrapped her up in his chocolate arms.

"Britts will be back soon," he whispered.

Santana was still young. Twenty Five isn't exactly a world expert age. She'd spent four years in college, and three years in this job. After the wedding, she had been planning a tour through America to promote her third album. Where was all that now? Brittany was going to take three months off and come with her, they were going to travel to thirty different states, and Brittany was going to sit front row at every single one of her shows. She had always been her greatest fan. How would she ever perform again, if she couldn't find Brittany in the audience?

Since beginning in this industry, as a fresh graduated college student, Santana had been blessed to have found somewhere where she was sheltered by a team of close knit people. The team consisted of Andy her agent, boss and college, Joey, the communications assistant, Melanie, Andy's receptionist and Toni, the agencies publicist. Between them they had a running joke about being the fantastic five. They got things done. They were facilitators for some of the most leading talents in New York City at the moment. Managing stars that were out in the world making a difference. Between them, keeping up with the overflow of contacts they had accumulated, devising developing platforms to promote their clients and getting stories in the press, they were the best at what they did.

Santana had wanted to be here. She had wanted to be in this position most of her life and she had it. But she'd shared all her thoughts with Brittany. Each night she would go home and ramble about all the CV's she had gone through in the day, old stories about how hilarious some people's audition tapes were, or the ones that had struck her. Brittany knew them; she knew them because she had listened so intently to the way Santana had described finding talent. Like discovering a new planet. Suddenly they're not aimlessly floating through the sky anymore, someone's found that they're better than this one solitary lonely planet and asked them to join their solar system. And all of a sudden you've got a collection of stars that are helping to shape a better galaxy.

_Who was going to listen to her stories now?_

Joe had followed Santana into the building, up the marble staircase to the landing and they'd entered the lift, and had been carried to the fifth floor. As the elevator doors slid open, the first thing Santana saw was Mel sitting behind the desk trying to untangle her headset. As soon as she saw Santana she froze.

"San?" she said.

_God, she couldn't do this, she couldn't have everyone fuss, she couldn't. She'd break.  
><em>

Melanie seemed to still at her reaction, as though she knew. She immediately diverted anything that would be considered a sensitive topic. "These damn headsets," she whined shaking it in the air, "You would think the agency would account for these things!"

Santana smiled weakly, silently thanking her.

Joe went to his desk and piled into the chair, there were already paper's and reports stacked high and it wasn't even lunch time. Santana's eyes were on Andrew's office door. She put her things down on the desk in corner, that overlooked the city landscape, and out into the harbour, so she could just see the statue of liberty, before making her way tentatively to the threshold of Andrew's office. She knocked on the door and a "Come in," was called back.  
>Santana opened the door and entered the office that she spent the majority of the time sitting in meetings arguing her case over who she thought was talented and who wasn't. She was the only one out of all of them that was forever at logger heads with Andrew. She challenged him. Caught him out when he was wrong, gloated when she was right, fought for the talents she believed were different. For that there was an undying respect that could never falter.<br>Andy looked at her, he had this look that said everything all at once without even blinking, and then the moment passed, and he didn't need to shower her with apologies or _how are you's_ or _is there anything I can do_. Santana was here. She was here to work and he was here to give her mind a break from everything else it seemed to be struggling with.

"I've got some interesting one's for you," he said.

Santana sat down in one of the oversized chairs in front of his desk. The room was open, and it smelt clean. It smelt like modern furniture and vanilla air freshener. The water tank gurgled every so often in the corner, as the traffic from the streets below hummed through the open window.

"Tapes from Julliard,"

Santana raised her eyebrows, "What are we looking for?"

He shrugged, "Few director friends of mine are looking for some actresses, want fresh faces though, figured we may as well go through Julliard first, and then head to the streets,"

Santana smirked, she'd missed his tone of voice, she'd missed having other agencies call through to the office accusing them of short listing their clients, when truth be told, it was all because everyone wanted to be represented by their firm. Certificates were mounted on the shelves and the filing cabinet on the left of the room, notes were stuck to the corkboard hanging on the back wall behind him, notes of _thankyous_ from all the people they represented, all the people that they'd found and moulded, who were now living out their dream. Santana eyed her own album covers, sitting framed and signed on his desk.

"Tapes, or interviews?"

He sighed, "San, just do tapes for now, it's your first day, you don't want to deal with over excited college students trying to kick it in the Big Apple,"

"I was one of those remember,"

"No," he corrected, "You were and are one of a kind,"

She smiled, as he handed her at least five tapes and a couple of CD's.

"Any particular type?"

"They didn't say specifically, just want someone who will mount of the screen if they're casted,"

She nodded. New York had so many talented people, people who could sing and act and dance and every single one of them had dreams. Sometimes it was so hard to comprehend that she was a person who said whether or not these dreams were going to come true. How was anyone even allowed that power? Shouldn't anyone be allowed to make their dreams come true without having anyone say no? It's their dream right? They should be allowed to hold it for as long as they want.

Their floor consisted of one large room, with Melanie's _receptionist castle_ as she had dubbed it because it was this great big circular enclosure with her desk in the middle and cabinets lining the inside for storage, sitting in the middle of the room like some great unearthed fortress. Andy's office was on the left, Toni's, Joe's and her desks scattered on different corners of the room and then offset was another room for meetings and also held all the equipment they needed for playback tapes. Santana made her way to that room, eyeing Toni's empty desk as she went. She wanted to know where she was this morning. More than likely she had slept in, but she missed her voice. She was the only person who could sit Santana down for two hours, talk nonstop about the American government and would retain Santana's interest. She pushed into the audio room and closed the door. The slide projector was against the wall, someone must have been using it earlier because it had still been left on. She passed the entertainment unit that was worth more than she thought necessary and placed the tapes on the top of the stereo system so she could grab the remote for the projector. After a moment, she had settled into one of the board chairs, crossed her legs underneath the long glass table and had pressed play on the first audition tape. Generally these tapes followed a simple procedure. You state who you are, what you do, why _Atlas Talent Agency_ should represent you, and what your career aspirations are. Then you give a 3-5 minute showcase of what you believe makes you talented enough to make it in this industry. Most of the time the people that came through had something and it was about working out who had the most of that something. Other times the tapes were just whole lot of shit.

Like the one she was now watching. Some idiot was dressed up as a Mario cart brother, dancing around singing a rendition of Will Smiths _Switch_.

"Dick," Santana said pressing stop and reaching for the next tape. She hated time wasters.

She fumbled with the tape for a moment, before sitting back down again and leaning back into the chair. When the tape came into motion, she felt her stomach give out.

"Hi, my name's Shay, and I want to be a dancer,"

Blonde hair, blue eyes, silky smooth skin, fresh faced, smiling like there was nothing wrong with the world. Santana wanted to look away; she wanted to look away because she couldn't see anything other than Brittany on the screen right now.

"I'm studying dance and acting at Julliard, but one day I want to travel the world with a dance company,"

_Santana wanted to be sick_.

"Atlas Talent Agency should represent me, because I'd showcase you to the world. You can never have enough spies in the world right," she raised herself on the tips of feet like a ballerina, and Santana gulped knowing it was the same thing Brittany would do, just to show off.

"I'm passionate about everything I set out to do. What am I passionate about? Dance, characterisation, success, honestly, courage and my girlfriend. My girlfriend is the reason I'm sending you this audition tape. She believes in me enough to let me see the world while she stays here. I hope you'll believe in me enough to,"

There was nothing Santana could do; she had been gripping the glass table edge so tightly her knuckles had turned white. And then the Shay girl blew a kiss to the screen and Santana burst into tears.

. . .

"Oh San," Rachel said her shoulders slumping, "That's the last thing you needed,"

Late afternoon and Santana had demanded Rachel drop whatever she was doing and come straight to her. Rachel Berry had been there in ten minutes flat. Now they sat on the steps of the agencies building, coffee beside them, and bagels in Rachel's lap.

"I'm just going to go to the hospital," Santana said, "I'm going to demand they let me see her and basically tell her that we're still getting married,"

Rachel eyes nearly soared through her bangs, "No San, no you can't do that,"

"Can everyone stop telling me what I can and can't do! Brittany is not something that comes with a posted note Rachel; it doesn't work like that,"

She squirmed a little, before recovering and setting herself up for a debate, "Santana, the doctors told you that Brittany's earliest memory was from her childhood,"

"Yes but…"

"So Santana, she doesn't know about her parent's death or the fact she's gay."

Santana closed her mouth.

"Think about it, think about what that is going to do to her, think about all those years she had to slowly discovered who she wanted to be, all those years she had to grieve and to try and move on, those years she had to come to terms with who she was, and all of a sudden she's going to be slapped in the face with it,"

"Rachel I don't understand how I shouldn't be there,"

"Rehab," Rachel said matter of factly, "Once you're in the rehab crew you're not allowed any contact for a while,"

Santana sighed, "Rachel she's not a drug addict, she was injured,"

"Her brain was injured," she replied, "Everything right now is delicate, so very delicate, patience San, we just need patience,"

"Do you know where I can buy that?"

Rachel smiled slightly, her eyes round like a little puppy that just wanted to find some comfort that its friend would be okay.

Santana's phone started ringing before she had the chance to ask Rachel about her day, she frowned at the unregistered number.

"Hello?"

"Miss Lopez?"

"Yes?"

"This is Dr Anderson, from the hospital,"

Santana felt her heart stop.

"Miss Lopez I'm just ringing to let you know we were in contact with Brittany's closest relative earlier in the week and we notified her of the accident. She arrived a day or two ago, and Brittany has responded terrifically to her, she knows her quite well and seems to be able to answer more of our questions in her presence."

Santana struggled with what he was saying, "Her cousin?" _Think Santana think, cousin in Ohio, cousin in Ohio, what was the name? shit, shit, shit_

"Zoe Pierce?" he said for her.

"Zoe," Santana echoed.

The doctor paused a moment, "Santana, Brittany has cleared all physical tests for the time being, and the psychiatrist that has been working with her, believes it's a good idea for her to return to her home town in Ohio. We've arranged a flight; Zoe is going to be taking care of her through the rest of the rehabilitation process,"

"I'm sorry what?" Santana stuttered.

"Brittany is going back to Ohio with her cousin."

"No I understand that much, but you can't just decide that, who the hell, what the hell, I'm her fucking finance, that's my girl you're dealing with," her sentences were broken, she was shaking, Rachel was in front of her in a heartbeat, her lips moving a million miles an hour trying to grasp what was going on.

"Santana I understand your worry and your apprehension, but Brittany only feels comfortable with her family,"

"I'm her fucking family," she reared into the receiver.

He launched into a speech about the mechanics of brain rehabilitation and Santana was still in so much shock she merely hung up on him.

"What?" Rachel demanded immediately, "You tell me right now,"

"Zoe Pierce," Santana said flatly, "Phone book, now, I need her cell phone number,"

Rachel had always been very efficient; she had to be really, owning a Broadway company required a skill that not many people possessed. Half the time Santana wondered how the hell she had done it. Rachel lived through her phone. The blackberry was like her tool to the universe.

Rachel had Zoe's number on the screen in less than five minutes. Santana dialled it into her own cell and waited.

It took an hour, neither of them moved from the steps for that time. Santana would dial, and then be cut off, dial and it would ring out, dial and then she would hear the click and knew she'd been hung up on.

"We're going to the hospital right now,"

Rachel stiffened, "Santana it's nearly 6pm, its dark, they know who you are. They could try to keep you away from her…"

"No they won't,"

"They will if you bust in there demanding to scoop Brittany up and whisk her away,"

"Rachel I really need to…."

Her phone was calling again, she answered hurriedly, "Yes?"

"Santana? Hi it's Zoe, Britts cousin, sorry I got your messages but my phone, it goes all funny in the hospital!"

Santana breathed a sigh of relief, "No its fine, just how is she?"

"She's doing okay I think, I mean best as can be in the circumstances I suppose,"

"Okay," Santana responded slowly, "I'm going to come to the hospital; I need to see her,"

"Oh we're not at the hospital Santana,"

"What?"

"We're boarding the plane back to Ohio in less than an hour,"

"You can't do that," Santana stammered, fear is like an ocean when you're trying to deal with shock at the same time. You're in the middle of the freaking ocean, there's nothing to hang onto and you're drowning.

"Well we can," she said matter of factly, "Britt was discharged this morning, the hospital arranged a medically supervised flight,"

"No you can't take her anywhere. What about her clothes? What about me for fucks sake?"

Zoe paused, "Well we got the address from her admittance papers, spare keys were in the belongings kept at the reception, and I packed a bag for her,"

Santana cheeks flamed red, at the realisation the bitch had gone into their home, packed a bag for her finance and was now about to take her out of state and all of this had happened without Santana's knowledge.

"As for you," she said curtly, "When Brittany was seven years old, we dreamed that we would marry Californian boys and have three children each. You took that dream from her Santana, with your disgusting sinful ways, and now I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure Britt goes back on the right path,"

Santana nearly dropped the phone, she wanted to throttle the bitch, "Listen here you snake, I swear to god, when I get my hands on you, you will have no idea,"

"Well you won't Santana, because you don't know where I live, and you have no way of tracking me down, my house is privately listed. Brittany will be with me, and I will make sure she has no way of remembering the sins you conjured up for her,"

There was a click and the phone hung up.

Santana screamed out in anguish and Rachel almost burst into tears, "San, she begged, "San what happened? Where are they? Where's Britt?"

It was too much. All of it. This. All of this was too much, the last hem had unfolded, the stitches had been untied and Santana's heart had fallen from her body.

"She – is – going- to- erase- me," she sobbed falling into Rachel's arms.

"Santana," she whispered urgently.

"Zoe has her," she replied, "Zoe is taking her back to Ohio, and she's not bringing Brittany back,"

Rachel's face depicted everything Santana felt, she was mortified.

* * *

><p><strong><em>BACK THEN<em>**

_Open your eyes Britt, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Sophomore Year, heading for the middle_

Santana eyed Rachel as she skipped along the corridor towards the music rooms. She followed her, sneaking around a set of lockers and sticking her foot out. Rachel went sprawling across the floor and into the lockers on the other side of the hall. She whimpered as her back pack cut into her shoulders.

"I thought dwarfs were meant to be good on their feet?"

Rachel pulled herself up adamantly.

"Satan," She faltered as Santana raised her eyebrows, "I mean Santana, I do believe that this is classified as bullying,"

Santana smirked, "I do believe you stole Quinn's boyfriend,"

Rachel's face was horrified, "I did not! Finn said he loved me,"

Santana squinted her eyes at her, "Listen Berry things like that don't just happen they…."

"Glee club time!"

Santana was cut off as Brittany bounded into them, "Hi Rachel," she said cheerfully picking Rachel's bag up off the ground and slinging it onto her own shoulders. "You sung really good yesterday, but I think we need to work on your two step, it sucks,"

Brittany pulled her down the hallway towards the classroom, as Santana forgot everything Quinn had instructed her to say.

_God she wished she was more like Brittany._

Today Mr Schuester was talking about what it means to be a family. He had titled their lesson as _Home_. Santana secretly thought it was because of the divorce he was going through and he was just trying to make himself feel better by talking about different ways of creating a home for yourself. She felt strange in this lesson, and not because Rachel was sitting with Finn or Brittany had hugged Tina and told her if she wanted she could borrow her legwarmers anytime she wanted. She felt strange because everything Mr Schue was saying made sense. It was almost like he was saying that a home is something you can make for yourself. She sat next to Britt in the back row. As Mr Schuester spoke about all the reasons it took to create a home and a family. Maybe it didn't matter that her parents were now divorced. Maybe it didn't matter that her mother was never home. Maybe all that mattered was that she was here in Glee Club, maybe this was her new family.

"Mr Schue," Rachel's hand shot up in the air, "I have a question,"

"Yes Rachel," he asked.

"I would like to know how many solo's I will be performing at regionals?"

"Oh please," Santana retorted, "Can we at least hear someone who doesn't want to leak tears every time they hit a high note?"

Rachel huffed at her remark, as Quinn smirked in response.

Mr Schuester rubbed his hands across his eyes, "Guys, play nice please. There are more important issues in the world than who gets to sing the most solos,"

Brittany nodded her head, leaning into Santana, "He's right. I think my cat is reading my diary,"

Santana opened her mouth to tell her that was impossible but Mr Schuester was speaking again, "Kurt," he said, "You have a song you'd like to sing?"

Santana watched as Kurt Hummel sprung up from the seat in the front row, he made his way to the centre of the room, straightened his hat on his head and mounted himself on the stool next to the piano. A million jokes popped into Santana's head about his plaid pants and red braces. He nodded to Brad, the piano guy who looked like something straight out of star trek movie, not that Santana had _ever_ watched those movies, and suddenly the room was full of notes. _A house is not a home_, were the only words that seemed to register in Santana's mind. Maybe this song meant more than what it should have. Before she could work out what she felt about the song, Brittany had curled into her. Holding her hands above Santana's thigh, the gesture made her skin burn. Gingerly Brittany held her pinkie finger out in the air. It was like nothing else needed to be said. Santana curled her own pinkie around Brittany's and suddenly they'd locked. They were locked in every way. This was home. Right now.

_Brittany was home_.

"Santana can you wait behind please,"

Santana mumbled a string of Spanish words under breathe, and told Brittany she'd be out at the lockers in five. Brittany smiled a response, wrapping an arm around Quinn as they walked from the classroom.

She stood awkwardly beside the piano, as Mr Schuester arranged some papers and straightened the drum kit.

"Santana," he asked, "How's things?"

Santana frowned, "Good?"

He smiled a little, leaning on the edge of the piano and folding his arms.

_Christ he wasn't trying to pick her up was he, she thought the whole reason he was getting a divorce is because his wife finally realised he was a late in life gay._

"You missing Los Angeles?"

Santana shrugged, "I guess, it wasn't like I was there for that long; it was only like two years Mr Schue,"

"I know, but that's a long time, to have to come back and retrace your steps,"

Santana thought on this a moment, she'd been back for nearly half the year, she'd spent every second relearning Brittany and her habits. They were inseparable. Then there was Quinn and her demands, but really Santana just thought she was this messed up old soul who was so angry with the world because she couldn't work out what she wanted. There was Puck, who asked her out every other day, and last week he stuck his tongue down her throat during gym class. She didn't feel anything for him, but he was hot, so she guessed it was okay. Rachel. Rachel freaking Berry. She wanted to smack the midget down and hang her from the flagpole. But such is life.

"I'm doing okay,"

"And you like glee club? You're managing with other classes and being on the Cheerio's'?"

_Actually me and Britt skip class a lot, so consequently the only real school work I do is Cheerio's and glee club, and I don't actually think that's going to look good on my college applications. Shit college!_

"I'm managing,"

"You know," he said readjusting himself, "I was very interested when you, Quinn and Brittany joined Glee, I never knew you had such talents,"

_Oh Christ he knows we're spies._

"You really are very talented Santana,"

She seemed to skip straight passed the horrible feeling he'd discovered they were amateur traitors to the part where he'd said she was talented.

"You think I'm talented?"

"Of course I do Santana, don't you?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, "I like being a cheerleader but I like being in Glee club and sometimes it's confusing,"

_Shit, was she actually confiding in him?_

Mr Schuester thought about this for a moment, "Well do you like one better than the other?"

Santana shrugged, before Mr Schuester smiled and indicated that she was free to go, as she made her way to the door, he called back to her and she turned on her heel.

"Santana, I want you to always remember something. You can be whoever you want to be. And if sometimes that means being five different things at the same time. Then so be it,"

Arms were thrown around her before she'd even made it to the lockers, and it almost seemed like the wind was knocked out of her.

"Party time!"

Santana attempted to straighten Brittany but it was no use she was bouncing around in excitement.

Quinn was at the lockers in minutes, "Party Santana, Pucks house, dress hot,"

Santana raised her eyebrows, "Like that would be a problem for me?"

Quinn grumbled before storming off down the hall.

"She's still touchy feely about the Finn subject," Brittany muttered calming down for a moment, "But it's so weird, because she's so riled about the fact Rachel is dating Finn rather than the other way round,"

"How do you mean?" Santana asked, putting her books back in the locker.

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged, linking her pinkie with hers, "It's like she's jealous Finn is dating Rachel and not the other way round, I swear I saw her staring at Rachel in Glee today,"

Santana brushed it off, "You know Q, Britts, once she gets an enemy in mind; she never takes her eyes off them,"

Brittany tightened her grip on Santana's finger, "Time to dance!"

**. . .**

Puck's house was typical. White picket fence, Ford Ranger in the drive way, balcony with a rocking chair at the front. When Santana and Brittany showed up, it was trashed. Clearly he was either going to be grounded, or need to flee the country. The lawn was scattered with people from school, Santana even swore some of the juniors were there. Plastic cups littered the ground as she and Brittany made their way inside.

Quinn was beside them in minutes, "They were kissing!"

Santana took off her jacket, and threw it over the stool in the kitchen, "Who?"

"Finachel!"

Santana groaned, "Oh please tell me you haven't made names already, Quinn that is so lame, god,"

She narrowed her eyes at Santana, "What's lame is that they're dating, _she_ could do so much better?"

"You mean _he_?" Santana corrected.

"I said that," Quinn responded, lifting the plastic cup to her lips and taking in the alcohol. Santana brushed it off.

"Glee club is here," Quinn went on to say.

"Really!" Brittany said excitedly, "Where, I want to see them,"

"No Britts, how about you and me go hang with the football boys, they miss us!"

Brittany pouted, "But I want to see if Tina is wearing my legwarmers,"

_Santana melted._

Before either of them could protest, Puck had slammed into the kitchen holding a wine bottle.

"Seven minutes in heaven!"

The each jumped and Quinn groaned, "Oh for crying out loud Puck why are you such a sleaze!"

"Lounge room," he responded.

Brittany smiled broadly, "So we really get to see what heaven looks like?"

For the first time in a while, Santana and Quinn actually laughed about something together.

It was the strangest circle Santana had ever been a part of. Finn and Rachel sat together as Quinn stared at them, mostly at Rachel which was a little weird. Four wheeler was decked out in his chair, which made it awkward because everyone was sitting on the ground and he was like Zeus on Mount Olympus. Puck was drunk. Mercedes sat next to a couple of football players, who were also drunk and she was literally telling them she would bust them if they tried anything. Tina _was_ wearing leg warmers, Kurt was dressed better than half the girls and Jacob was here. Santana narrowed her eyes at him, "Jewfro," she said ignorantly.

"Hello Satan," he said, "How do you feel about my recent post quoted from my dedicated poll holders, _Santana Lopez has the firmest ass in all of McKinley High, she once squashed an elderly lady on the bus_"

Santana lunged forward for his neck, but Brittany pulled her back.

"You mutt," she said irritably, "why are you even here?"

"My blog needs live footage," he said.

"It's time to come out of the desert Jewfro, the quarter isn't there!"

"Santana," Brittany said, "Let's just play the game,"

Puck leant into the circle and told Mercedes to spin the bottle, she did as instructed. Santana wasn't drunk enough for this, seven minutes in Pucks closest trying to talk the other person out of groping her. _Jesus_. The bottle landed on Mercedes and Artie, and they both laughed. Santana wrinkled her nose, whilst Brittany clapped enthusiastically.

"Artie do you want me to wheel you?" she offered.

He nodded sheepishly and Brittany bounded up to help him into the closet, Mercedes disappeared inside.

"He's gonna be saying halleluiah!" Puck grinned, and Santana rolled her eyes.

Twenty minutes later, and she wanted to kill Jacob for the questions he'd been firing at her, not as much Rachel wanted him murdered.

"Rachel what panties are you wearing?"

"Jacob, I do not appreciate you asking me such personal questions, it's completely inappropriate,"

"Why does Finn get to see them and not me!" he whined.

Santana looked to Quinn expecting her eyes to flare, but instead they were squarely on the hem line of Rachel's jeans, Santana cocked an eyebrow.

"Spin!" Puck ordered, and Brittany spun the bottle with a small laugh.

Santana watched it, in a half dazed, she'd been slowly sipping on Quinn's drink through the game but it hadn't really affected her. God maybe this meant she drank too much and she was used to it.

The bottle stopped spinning, and Santana realised it had landed on her. She sat up slightly.

"Dammit!" Puck moaned.

"How is that dammit?" Artie said.

Puck looked at him like he was the stupidest thing known to man, "They're best friends, they'll just go in there and figure out which one of their mums is picking them up,"

"Mine is," Brittany said standing up, "Come on San, we get to see heaven now!"

Santana smirked slightly before standing, and shoving Jacobs head as she passed him, he faced planted the side of the lounge in a muffled cry.

Pucks room was a typical guys. Army posters everywhere, a damn dirt bike took up half the room, his bed was unmade and the floor was littered with clothes that just smelt like boy.

"Where's heaven?" Brittany asked turning to her.

Santana laughed slightly, before pointing to Pucks closet, _a walk in wardrobe_, well at least they could sit and gossip with space.

Brittany crawled inside and sat down in the middle; Santana followed and closed the door. She checked her watch, seven minutes to be away from all that weird mixing.

"Santana this doesn't really feel like heaven,"

"Britt have you ever played seven minutes in heaven before?"

She shook her head, "I sent Lord Tubbington to the sin bin for seven minutes?"

Santana bit her tongue, _Christ why are so cute?_

"Okay Britt," she said sitting down next to her, "Basically the bottle is spun, and when it lands on someone, you go into a closet or dark room,"

"It's not dark in here,"

Santana looked up at the dim light, "It's the light of heaven?" she replied.

Brittany nodded as though the answer was the simplest one ever.

Santana continued, "Then you stay in the closet for seven minutes and you can do whatever you want with the person,"

Brittany tilted her head, "San, that's like spin the bottle, only you're in a closet"

Santana wiped her hands down the front of her jeans, "Exactly,"

Brittany was looking her, trailing her eyes over Santana, it made her burn in every single way.

"Does that mean I should kiss you?"

_Santana melted._

"Well," she stammered, "I mean you can do anything,"

Brittany thought a moment, "Anything?"

"Yes," Santana barely managed.

Brittany smiled slightly, leaning towards her, holding their eyes together, and every so often glancing down at Santana's mouth. Santana was in trembles, she couldn't feel her own skin.

They were touching, and Santana felt like her skin was on fire. _Was this normal? This was so completely not normal, and she couldn't understand what it was._

Brittany pressed her lips on Santana's and she felt electricity shoot through her body.

"Santana?"

"Yes," she whispered barely able to even speak, Brittany's lips were so soft and tasted so good, it was any wonder she managed to pry herself away from them.

"Am I supposed to like your lips?"

Santana gulped slightly, she didn't know how to answer, "I don't know,"

Brittany pressed harder, as Santana's mouth opened, she felt her slide her tongue into her mouth, and instantly all she wanted was more. Pulling at her lips, Santana wanted to press closer, god she needed Brittany closer. Santana needed to sit on her hands, they were fighting against her intentions to start touching Brittany in places that Santana wasn't even sure should be allowed. Before she could even work out what exactly to do with her hands, Brittany had pulled away, and somewhat snapped her out of her trace.

"Do you like mine?"

_God yes!_

"I guess," she lied.

"Can I kiss you again?"

_Don't ever, ever, ever stop._

"I think we should go back to the party Brittsticks,"


	11. Chapter 10

Hi my little readers, hows things? Do you like how its going? I do change bits and pieces here and there because I am always getting new ideas lol so apologies in advance! How bad do we feel for San hey such a nightmare…. Lets hunt down Zoe together?

Also, in response to the publishing thing. I am actually in the process of being published ! I have a contract drawn with Random house Australia for a book release hopefully at the end of this year, if not next year. I don't want to give anything away because we need to be focusing on Brittana right now ;)

Enjoy this chapter guys, it was written in Gloria Jeans as I stared at a chocolate wafer, pretending it was a breadstick and **WISHING** _Brittsticks_ was with me!

Court x

p.s yes we reached double digit chapters!

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 10<strong>

_You're not here. But you're still with me. When I said you can't kiss me, I didn't mean it_

* * *

><p><strong>NOW<strong>

The world is like this constant movie, only the pause, rewind and fast forward button is missing. You've got no choice. Whatever is happening, you have to ride it through. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how much you just want to find the fast forward button.

Santana watched as Quinn clicked the shutter button and simultaneously a small wren pecking at the crumbs on the ground was instilled on her camera forever. In a city that was coated in steel and glass buildings, it was nice to find some comfort amongst the trees.

Quinn hunched slightly to take another photo of the wren.

"Do you ever want to be back in L.A?"

She looked up at Santana, the green from the trees above them reflected from her eyes, and made them so much brighter, she may as well have lit up Central Park.

"That's such an off topic question San," she quipped, adjusting the shutter speed on the Canon.

Santana shrugged, "I don't have the mindset or the will power to stay on topic anymore,"

Quinn sighed, "Santana I was a UCLA girl, I lived four years of my life in and out of Santa Monica, in and out of internships with an arts degree and no idea how to use it,"

"But what about Hollywood, the hub of the industry, universal and paramount studios, you don't miss being within inches of them?"

Quinn smiled slightly, "I'm twenty five years old," she said stepping towards her, "and by some miracle I've already realised what I want in life, and none of that is in Los Angeles. I want Rachel. I want to be Brittany's maid of honour," at the mentioned of her name Quinn faltered, trying to swallow whatever lump had formed in her throat. "And I want to be here in Central Park, with you every lunch break, or every time you want to throw an audition tape at your boss's head, but you don't because you meet me here and we just, well we just be us,"

Santana exhaled deeply, feeling the air around her, for the first time in months.

"San, I was so angry for so long. You know that feeling. We shared it remember. You just managed to figure yours out a little earlier, and with more dignity," she added, wrinkling her nose.

"I love this city, I love that QStudios is my company. I love that every day I get to work with technology that helps to preserve history. I love the museums here, I love that they now directly ask me to organise and shoot exhibitions. I love my crazy girlfriend and her constant insisting that I take all the production stills for her shows. I love that you get recognised by people for your music, I love being with you when you get recognised,"

The hairs on the back of Santana's neck were standing on end,

"Santana I lost so much faith in high school, but then somehow I got it all back again. You need to find that faith again, you need to know that Brittany is going to remember,"

"Q," she choked out, "her cousin has stripped her from me, and they'd be in Ohio right now, Britts probably finding out that her parents are dead all over again. I can't even explain what my heart is doing to me right now, knowing she is going through that. I was there the first time. To see her in that much pain, it breaks me,"

Quinn moved over to her, and slipped her arm around Santana's waist, drawing her into her, "I want to literally rip this Zoe bitch in half, but right now, she is the only one Brittany feels safe and familiar with,"

"Yes but,"

"San," Quinn reasoned, "What did Mr Schue always say, if we're going to win, if we're going to get the title back, we have to let the competition think they've won. Because then victory is always so much sweeter,"

"When the doctors said she needed to recount the memories, I didn't think they meant physically,"

Quinn shrugged slightly, "Yes well, conditions change, things happen and there's nothing we can do to stop them. We just learn to use them to our advantage,"

"I almost took a flight out the other night. I want to get on a plane and fly to her,"

Quinn frowned, "Rachel said that Zoezilla had a private listing?"

Santana felt a small swell of pride at the apparent name Rachel had already developed, _god she was always so clever_.

"But Ohio," she said, "It's Ohio! I would search every single house if I had to,"

Quinn thought on this plan for a moment, "Have you spoken to the homebodies?"

Santana grinned at the name accumulated for their high school friends who had stayed put, "I spoke to Mike the other night, he said he'd keep an eye out, but as far as he knows Tina went down to Florida to visit some college friends and to forget about the news and Mercedes took up an international conference tour for Coca Cola. Q they were all coming to the wedding, I made them rearrange their lives and now…"

"Oh for Christ sake," Quinn snapped, "Don't you dare go down that path. This should never have happened. I can't…" she stopped herself catching the lump in her throat again, "look Britt is going to see her childhood again. Santana you made up the majority of that, if she doesn't remember the moment she touches base with McKinley high then I don't know what will,"

Santana nodded, tilting her head towards the sky watching the clouds graffiti-ed against the blue. There's so much associated with memory, so many places hold so many ties to the memory you store away. She prayed that Brittany would recognise those places, recognise all those places that were theirs. All those places that made Santana Brittany's and Brittany Santana's. They were a pair. Pinkies don't lock on their own. They don't lock on their own because it takes another to make that promise with in the first place.

_You promised Brittsticks_.

* * *

><p><strong>BACK THEN<strong>

_Open your eyes B, it's me; I've been here all along_

_Sophomore Year, a bit past the middle_

"Brittsticks?" Santana called up the stairs, "Britts?" she put her hands on her hip.

"She's up there," Layla said from inside the kitchen, "maybe she's got those plugs in her ears that play the music. You kids have got the funk these days!"

Santana smirked at Mrs Pierce in the kitchen, every time she came over Layla would embrace her, ask her if she was hungry and compliment her hair style that day. It was more affection than her own mother had ever showed her. The other day she nearly said I love you mum, but she'd caught herself and shoved cookie dough in her mouth instead.

"Brittsticks if you don't come down those stairs and admit that you need to get in shape, then I will tell coach Sylvester to put you on the bottom of the pyramid,"

This was a complete lie, because that would mean Santana would need to be on the bottom pyramid, her and Brittany came as a pair now.

Santana grumbled to herself, before taking off up the stairs to see what the hell her best friend was actually doing.

Sure enough she found Brittany still in her room, lying flat on her stomach and reaching under her bed.

"Brittsticks, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Lord Tubbington won't come and eat his food,"

Santana sighed, "Britts, you promised a work out session before Cheerio practice today,"

Brittany pulled herself up off the ground, dusting herself from the carpet furs that had made their way over her uniform.

"We are San; I just wanted to try getting Lord Tubbington to eat something,"

Santana smirked, "Can we go already?"

Brittany stared at her a moment, tentatively at first, but then she closed the space between them, leant as close as she could to Santana and kissed her.

_Santana melted._

She felt Brittany's arm curl around her waist, pulling them together as she trailed her lips over Santana's.

She couldn't let this happen; she'd fought it so well since Puck's party.

"Britt," she said pulling away, "Britt I said you weren't allowed to do that,"

Brittany frowned, "But I want to,"

Santana shook her head, "We can't okay,"

"Why San?"

_Excuse. Think of an excuse. Anything, do something to abort these feelings. This is not an option, feelings are not an option._

"Because Puck is going to ask me out,"

Brittany stilled for a moment, "Oh,"

_Santana melted in all the wrong ways. _

"Do you like him?"

_Not as much as I like you. As much as I think I like you. You're a girl though. You're my best friend! Someone bury me!_

"He's hot," Santana shrugged.

Brittany sighed slightly, "Okay San, I won't kiss you again, but my lips are awfully sad about it,"

As Brittany walked from the room, Santana saw Lord Tubbington crawl out from the cupboard. Maybe it was her blind state of confusion at the time, or maybe it was because it was 7 am in the morning. But she swore he shook his head at her.


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

_I gave myself away a long time ago, and now you've gone away too_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Santana watched as Rachel stood at her kitchen counter pulling the tea bag in and out of the water. She added milk and stirred, before placing it in front of Santana.

"The hospital will keep you posted I'm sure of it,"

Santana looked from the tea to Rachel and then shrugged.

"I doubt it, in medical confidentiality you've got no rights unless you're blood related or married," Her eyes glazed over as she struggled to control her lips from quivering.

"Santana," Rachel said firmly, moving around the counter to place her hands on her shoulders.

"You will marry Britt, you will marry her because," she trailed off and casted her eyes out of the kitchen window, "because," she tried again, "because I'm supposed to be your maid of honour,"

And then it happened. Rachel Berry, always so infallibly poised, model of strength and direction... fell apart. Tears streamed down her cheeks and those adorable little word rambles started tumbling from her mouth in great shuddering sobs. "This is not supposed to happen... I miss her...the wedding... oh god the wedding..."

Santana fought every single urge in her own emotional rollercoaster body to suppress her feelings. _Don't break, don't break._

Rachel had been so supportive, she had been this pillar of strength for Santana to lean on, and never once had she faltered in any of her reasoning's, and Quinn had been the same.

"Rachel," Santana murmured taking her arms from where they had been clutching her waist, as though Rachel was hugging herself. "Starch," she said again.

Rachel stopped sobbing so hard and managing to calm a little so she could face Santana.

"Rachel, you are my best friend, but I never ever want you to hide the way you are feeling about anything. You did that for too long with Q,"

At the mention of Quinn, Rachel burst into tears all over again. Santana frowned gripping her tighter.

"Rachel, speak to me, stop crying and speak to me,"

"Please don't hate me for what I'm about to say,"

Santana frowned, she didn't know how she could hate her, Rachel had been there for Santana when she hadn't had anyone else.

"Rachel you know by now, that you can say anything to me,"

Rachel wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, before inhaling and looking at Santana.

"All I can think of is how destroyed I would be if it was Quinn. Santana I have tried to be so proactive and strong for you, but sometimes just looking at you kills me,"

Santana nearly fell to pieces again, "Rachel, no," she said, "No you are the most wonderful person I've ever known. You're here Rachel. I don't care if you're here crying with me. You're just here,"

It seemed to make her feel a little better, because she straightened herself and fanned her fingers through her hair.

"Okay," she mumbled, moving and reaching for the tissues on the window sill, "What do you want for dinner, I'll make you anything,"

Santana smiled, she couldn't be in her apartment anymore. She couldn't spend her nights wrapped up in Brittany's favourite jumper because it still smelt like her. She was exhausted. It was too much. Rachel and Quinn owned a terrace on the corner of eighth avenue, not even a block away from the Booth theatre. Rachel's production company _Shining Bright Enterprises_, had produced six sell out Broadway shows, one of which Rachel starred in, in just under three years. She was high on demand and taking it all in her stride. The terrace was quaint, warm and depicted all the little things that made up Rachel and Quinn. Canvases of Quinn's photographs hung from nearly every wall because Rachel insisted on showing her off. Rachel's OBIE and Tony awards sat on the mantel piece in the lounge room, as a reminder that all her hard work had been recognised.

It had never been about anything other than support with Rachel and Quinn. Support for all the things each of them had believed in. They say from your graduation day, you're changed. You've been through this relentless cycle of growing up and one day you're smacked with a realisation. The realisation that high school is over and you've got to get your shit together. Santana had made countless of excuses for her attitude up until the moment she finally accepted she was gay, and she was in love with her best friend. Over the years a small pattern had merged. Rachel and Brittany were open and comfortable, Santana and Quinn, well, not so much. After high school, all the politics and the immature wars waged; didn't seem to matter that much as they fought for their own identities while still trying to hold onto each other. College presented unlikely circumstances but they managed to get past the gaping tunnel and reach the light at the end. Right now, Santana felt like she was back in the tunnel again. Only last time Brittany had been her source of light; now there was only darkness.

The front door slammed and Quinn called out from the foyer. Santana melted at the way Rachel seemed to brighten. Quinn entered the kitchen, setting her camera bag on the bench along with an armful of paper work. She placed a kiss to Santana's head before squeezing her shoulders in this reassuring manner. She'd been doing that a lot lately. They both had.

Rachel was already rambling about how she'd found a new recipe for a casserole which was what she was making and Santana watched Quinn draw her into her arms, enveloping her and kissing her. She stripped all the words from Rachel's mouth. She rendered her speechless. Quinn had always rendered Rachel speechless, in everything, at every age, from every stage in their lives, she'd always taken the words from Rachel's mouth. Just like Brittany had always rendered Santana breathless. There's no other feeling like the one, when you lose your breath from someone's touch, or smell or taste. Brittany left her breathless by just stepping into a room.

Quinn pulled the orange juice from the fridge, listening as Rachel talked about her day and the script for the new production.

"Baby," Quinn said tilting her head, "What time frame are you aiming to have this production on stage by?"

Rachel smirked pouring oil into the frying pan, "Eight weeks,"

Santana and Quinn both nearly screamed.

"Rachel!" Quinn said exasperated, "Do you know how strenuous that is going to be?"

Rachel pouted, "It's manageable,"

"Managable," Santana interjected, "It will send your stress levels to new heights,"

Rachel shrugged, "Organisation is in my DNA,"

Quinn shook her head, sneaking up behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist. She kissed Rachel's shoulder. They had been so good with the amount of kisses and touches and anything else since Santana had been staying with them. Mainly because any glance just reminded her of the way Brittany use to look at her. But there were moments when they couldn't help themselves. Santana wanted to tell them that seeing them like this healed her in some way, because they'd overcome so much.

"It'll be a great show Rach," Santana smiled and Rachel beamed.

"Pass me the salt?" she asked and Quinn handed her the condiment.

"Rachel!" Santana cried as Rachel went to tip the ingredients into the pan, "That was sugar," she mumbled.

Rachel groaned as Quinn burst into laughter.

**. . .**

Westchester Dance Academy produced some of New York's leading dance artists. If you wanted to be a dancer. You sought a place at this academy. Brittany was one of the youngest dancers to have ever started teaching classes at the academy. The schedule allowed her to also complete her honours for dance collaboration and choreography. The board director had called Santana earlier this morning, and asked if she wouldn't mind popping in for a chat. So now, an hour over her lunch break, Santana sat in the plush office watching Brittany's boss flick through some papers trying to avoid eye contact with her. This was uncomfortable. She'd met Ms Pollock on a few occasions where Brittany's dance troupe had made the finals, and she'd always been very polite. But right now, she was avoiding bringing up the topic which was the reason Santana was even here; Brittany.

"Santana I don't even know how to say this,"

Santana shifted uncomfortably in the chair opposite Ms Pollocks desk, "Maybe it would just be better to say it?"

"The academy is deeply sorry to hear about Brittany,"

Santana bit down on her tongue, "Thank you," she near but whispered.

"Santana, I appreciate that this situation is extremely critical and heartbreaking for you, and I want to assure you that Brittany is a great asset to this company,"

_Oh god please say what I think you're going to_

"So I need you to know that there will always be a place for her here,"

Santana thought that perhaps hugging the woman might be slightly forward, particularly considering as far as she knew she was married with about three kids.

There wasn't really anything to say, other than that she was so thankful for her support. She was so relieved that she didn't sit there and fire questions at her, she wouldn't have been able to answer them even if she had tried.

Now sitting in the back of the cab, her hands in her lap, cradling her phone with the text message from Kurt, telling her to meet him outside Macy's, Santana wanted to know if anything would ever be the same. What if things happened, and they happened for particular reasons. What if this was all just supposed to be happening? How do you find your way back, how do you get to the point where everything just felt right? She felt so fragile all the time. She didn't know where her fiancé was, all she was relying on was the hope that Brittany's memory would come back. What if it didn't? Santana didn't think she could say goodbye.

The cab rounded the corner of Third and Fourth Street and the cab driver turned the radio up slightly. She had only ever heard three of her songs play on the radio in the same vicinity as her. Those three occasions had each been with Brittany and they had both laughed. Right now, as she sat in the back of a cab, its leather seats fluffing at the seams and her seatbelt not even on properly; one of her songs started playing on the radio. It was the song she had written when Brittany walked from her life for the first time. Listening to her own voice didn't still her as much as listening to her own truthful lyrics. For the second time in three weeks, Santana broke down in the company of a stranger.

* * *

><p><strong>BACK THEN<strong>

_Open you eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Sophomore year, just passed the middle_

Sweet Valley High was an okay show, Santana mostly just watched it because Brittany was always so excited about the Wakefield twins and Todd Wilkins, this hot basketball player. She had said yes to go out with Puck. They didn't really do anything, just made out a lot in his car. It was Brittany's house she liked coming to. She liked coming over in the afternoons and having Michael teach her how to play poker, he said apparently it was a good skill to learn even if everyone else thought it shouldn't be taught to minors. Layla fussed over her, in ways that Santana had never been used to. Yesterday she had fixed a small rip in her Cheerio's uniform, it had been there for months, and just like that Brittany's mum had patched it all up. It was more than that, it was like they had patched something inside her; the hole wasn't so big anymore.

Brittany's bed was so freaking comfortable, she loved just being wrapped up in the pillows, and having Brittany snuggled with her. Ohio had been gradually getting warmer, it was okay during the day, at school with the air conditioning blasting because Principal Figgins had splurged the school budget on brand new air conditioning units, but in the night this warm change happened and you were basically forced to wear nothing just so you could breathe. Not exactly the best circumstance when your best friend had the body of some imperial goddess and you were trying to work out whether you felt attracted to it.

"Santana," she said suddenly from where her head was resting on Santana's shoulder, "You know how sometimes when you sleep over, and its dark and you trail your hands up and down my stomach, when you think I'm sleeping,"

Santana gulped, _Christ she was such a convincing sleeper._

"Oh do I?" _fuck Santana you are so lame_

"Yes I feel you," Brittany responded, "Well I like it, and I don't know what to do with these feelings because we never talk about them, and you're with Puck, so it makes me confused,"

Brittany felt so warm against her, it drove Santana insane, she wanted to literally peel her clothes off right now.

"Britts it's hot,"

She confused her even more. Because Brittany's head had tilted as though she wasn't sure what Santana was implying.

"Let's go play in the sprinklers?"

It had been a brilliant idea at the time, ultimate deflect tactic, feelings get brought up, mention something that sounds way more fun and we have a winner. That is until they'd finished spraying each other with the water, and Brittany was drenched from head to toe and Santana was able to literally see through her clothes, as though they just weren't even on in the first place. Santana was also dripping wet. But not from the hose.

**. . .**

Puck slid his hands across Santana's shoulders and trailed them down her arms, prying her thighs apart. Directly after glee club, when Mr Schue had been trying to explain the importance of sex that meant something, he had suggested they go for a drive. Earlier they had spent the entire lesson singing Madonna songs, and now Puck was taking off her clothes in the back seat of his truck, just beside the basketball courts out near the riverside. Santana had never imagined her virginity would go this way. She guessed Puck was hot, so it was okay, right? It was okay because he was so good looking? It didn't need to be with someone she loved, it was just sex. Everyone did it eventually right?

**Wrong**.

After he'd crawled off her, zipped his jeans up, and started the engine with not so much as another word to her, she'd never felt more empty in her life.

Her heart was empty, her skin was empty, her stomach was empty, the only thing that was full, was her mind. It was full of thoughts of Brittany.


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

_I've never understood it, but I've always believed it. Do you think she will too?_

* * *

><p><strong><em>NOW<em>**

Sometimes late at night, when Santana knows Rachel and Quinn are fast asleep, she curls into a ball in the middle of the bed in the spare bedroom and she cries. She cries because in the middle of the night when there's nothing else that could possibly distract her anymore, she thinks of Brittany. She thinks of how she's the one who knows everything about her, about how she would always let Santana win every argument, about how they loved each other more than the world itself. Santana wonders if there is anyone else in this world who could possibly know everything about her, all her flaws and all her traits and honestly love each of them. She wonders if anyone could love her the way Brittany does. Then she remembers that Brittany doesn't know those feelings anymore. She remembers that Brittany is miles away with no know recollection of the life they had built. It's like someone just drives the stake in further, and she's lying there with no one to help pull it out.

Santana dreamt about her last night. She dreamt that they were standing at the edge of the wharf and she was racking her brain for ways to stop the inevitable.

"I love you Santana," she had said, "I love you and don't ever forget that,"

Santana felt on fire, she felt the same words pouring from her mouth only the sound wasn't coming out.

Brittany's tired eyes had eventually closed and the blue had disappeared under the lids. Santana whispered over and over again endless _I love yous_, but it was no use, no sound eventuated. As Brittany had slipped away, the dream dissolved and even though Santana was still repeating _I love you_, still no sound was leaving her mouth. No sound was leaving her mouth, because Brittany had forgotten.

She hadn't gone in to work. Joe had called four consecutive times before Santana had even answered. She couldn't do it. She couldn't walk into that office and pretend she was perfectly fine and ready to go. She still hadn't even worked up the courage to tell Andrew that they should hire that young girl Shay from Julliard. She had broken down over her audition tape for god's sake, how in the hell was she supposed to meet the girl in real life. For all she knew, she'd end up breaking down again and Shay would be standing there wondering what she was on. Instead she was sitting on Rachel and Quinn's couch. The TV was on mute because she had lost interest in the day time soaps, and instead had become preoccupied with one of Quinn's digital SLR's. It had always fascinated her at our Quinn could swap between analogue camera's and digital, Polaroid's and antique and still manage to deliver a picture that presented a thousand or so feelings. Quinn had never had much interest in photography until she had started college, and instead of sitting and painting, she had decided she wanted to explore the mechanics of cameras. There was a dark room downstairs; Rachel had assembled it as a Christmas present the other year. Santana had been in there once, it was been pitch black except for this eerie red glow, and she'd tripped, split some chemical liquid all over her $400 jeans and sworn to never return. It was Quinn's outlet, her den, where all her work was completed. Santana will never forget the coffee break one august where Rachel promptly told her that they'd had sex down there and Rachel had burnt herself on the fluorescent lights. Santana quite possibly had never laughed so hard.

Her phone signalled an incoming call and she picked it up expecting it to be Kurt mentioning something about another theatre show he had critiqued. Leave it to him, to convince his boss that he was now on an individual assignment in New York City, hunting competition. The face on the screen was not, in a hundred years who she thought it would be.

"Mum?"

"San," she breathed into the receiver.

Santana sat directly upright, her insides stilled as she grappled with the idea that her mother was calling her, she hadn't spoken to her in months. Santana's relationship with her mother was frail, but the light hadn't been extinguished. She had always thought of it as being the last birthday candle left on the cake. The one that no matter how hard you try you just can't seem to blow it out. So in the end you just accept that it was always going to be that way and you went ahead and made your wish anyway.

"Santana why didn't you tell me you were back home?"

Santana frowned, half pressing the phone closer to her ear, "What?" she asked, "Are you drunk?"

She heard her mother sigh in annoyance on the other end, "Santana short of your beliefs, I don't drink,"

"But you smoke,"

"Santana Lopez!"

"No mum, I am not back in Ohio, I don't even know why you would ask if I…"

"Because Brittany is here,"

Santana froze, she literally felt the numbness crawl up from her toes and settle on every part of her body, "Where mum, this is very important where did you see her?"

"You two have called off the wedding haven't you, god if I had of known how difficult this gay marriage was going to be I wouldn't have sent the cheque…."

"WHERE!" Santana yelled.

Her mother paused slightly as though she was slightly taken aback with Santana screaming into the phone.

"The supermarket Santana, I saw her come into the supermarket and then leave with another girl, look honestly you should have known cheating was going to be a part…"

"She's not cheating on me," Santana wept, _this was too much, all too much_.

"There was an accident, Britt was injured, and she's lost her memory, and that girl is her cousin, who's taken her away, and is pretending I don't exist…"

Santana's mother went silent, "Accident?"

"Yes," she sobbed, pushing her hand towards her mouth to stop the sobbing from becoming louder and incomprehensible, "She was in a coma, and…."

"No creo que este Santana!" she said forcefully, "I do not believe this, how could you not ring me!"

"Jesus I don't know Mother, perhaps because you think everything I do in my life is just a phase, you just said it yourself, you've never believed in us!"

"Santana," she responded calmly, "Just because sometimes I don't agree with things, or I can't understand things, doesn't mean I can't see them,"

Santana gulped down more tears.

"I saw exactly what was going on between you and Brittany from the very damn beginning, I saw it, and by Christ I didn't understand it, but I believed it… now for crying out loud I want you to tell me what the hell has been going on,"

"Mum it's too long of a story and I'm so broken right now, that I can't even…"

"I have all day," she said flatly.

Santana sighed, before curling her feet against her knees and opening her mouth to her mother, in perhaps the longest conversation she had in, well, forever.

* * *

><p><strong>BACK THEN<strong>

_Open your eyes B, its me, I've been here all along_

_Sophomore year, we're at the end_

"Santana I swear if you even think about…."

"Dwarf please stop speaking," Santana responded holding her hand up in Rachel's face, she was still so tiny that Santana's whole hand just about blocked out her demanding little face.

Rachel slumped back down in her chair, crossing her arms, and feeling extraordinarily agitated.

"I still think we should sing Don't stop believing,"

"You would think that Finn," Quinn snapped, "Because you get to be in the lead,"

Rachel rolled her eyes, "So do I, you never question that Quinn,"

"That's because…."

"Because what Q?"

Silence fell over the classroom as Santana's eyebrow shot upwards, no one dare utter another word in response to what Rachel had just said.

"Oh Rachel knows Quinn's nickname too!" Brittany said smiling.

Clearly, which was so strange to hear her call Quinn by that name, because usually that was only reserved and allowed for people that knew Quinn, or at least weren't scared of her. What was even more interesting, apart from everyone's shocked and awkward faces, was that Quinn had not retorted with one of her angsty one liners, or stares that made you want to stuff pillows into your mouth. She responded in the same way Santana did every time Brittany made any adorable comment. Santana knew that look; Santana knew that look because it was on her own face nearly every day.

_Q had melted. _

"Guys I'm really nervous for Regionals," Tina said, changing the subject to which everyone silently thanked her.

"We're going to be fine," Rachel huffed, "So long as we choose the right songs!"

"So long as we each get to showcase ourselves!" Mercedes added with a raised eyebrow and an expression that pretty much could have bitch slapped Rachel in two.

Rachel suddenly jumped up from her seat and made her way across the floor to the whiteboard. She stole the whiteboard marker and wrote _Regionals_ in great big letters.

"Here we go," Puck said irritably.

"Ideas?" Rachel responded tilting her head.

Santana smirked, they were witnessing the first time, that Rachel was asking their opinions. Rachel was actually asking for input. What was glee club turning into?

"San?"

Santana pried her eyes away from where Kurt had skipped up the front and was wrestling Rachel for the whiteboard marker. Finn was just about ready to pry them apart and Puck was simply laughing.

"Mmmm?" she said turning to her, she looked so beautiful today, she'd curled her hair, almost like there had been a special occasion that she had needed to attend to.

"I need to tell you something,"

"You can tell me anything Brittsticks,"

She sighed a little, "Artie asked me to be his girlfriend outside the lockers this morning,"

Santana stilled.

"And I said yes, because he's never kissed a girl before and I feel sorry for him. But mostly he's really nice and he makes me laugh,"

_I'm nice to you. I make you laugh._

"Oh right," Santana said barely audible.

"We're going to breadsticks tonight; do you and Puck want to come?"

Santana was so busy trying to stop her hands from reaching down two sets of seats and literally throttling the four wheeler for doing the one thing that she hadn't had the courage to do.

"No Brittsticks," she said, "Puck and I want to be alone,"

For the first time, Santana saw the disappointment in Brittany's eyes, and slowly she felt every inch of her insides peel away, at the very thought that she had been the one to cause that disappointment.

**. . .**

They didn't win.

Santana was so pissed off she wanted to literally throw something out of the window. They deserved to win dammit; they had worked so hard, they had gone through all the motions, endured sectionals, put up with countless homework assignments, and she had spent all year in a classroom with Rachel Berry!

Mr Schuester sat in front of them, staring at them from the bottom of the stage. The auditorium had become Santana's favourite place at the school. It was big and open and if you closed your eyes you could pretend you were in a galaxy, full of stars that only wanted to see you shine. In this weird way, sitting in a row, on stools with the rest of glee club, made her feel a part of something, it made her feel a part of something that mattered. Coach Sylvester wanted to take all that away, she wanted to end Glee club all because they hadn't won at Regionals.

"Mr Schuester," Finn was now saying, "Before this club I didn't know what it was like to have a father...someone…." he stuttered, "Someone to look up to,"

For the first time in all her life, Santana actually identified with Finn Hudson.

"I hated everyone in this club," Santana spoke up.

"Me too," Brittany responded.

_Santana melted. A pair. We come together. _

"Glee club will never be over Mr Schue," Mercedes said, her voice trembling with all the sadness Santana felt, "because you are glee club,"

Santana had never ever cried in front of anyone. She had cried earlier in the year in the bathrooms, but only because Sue Sylvester had told her if she didn't throw up her lunch that day she would kick her out of the Cheerio's. Now tears were pooling down her face like she had never cried before. She hadn't even cried this much when her Dad had packed up his suitcase. Maybe it was because everyone else was crying. They'd hated each other. They'd never spoken to each other, and now the thought of being without each other. Santana _hated_ that.

Suddenly the auditorium doors blew open and Ms Sylvester, marched down the centre aisle in all her red tracksuit glory. She directed her stone cold face directly at Mr Schuester.

"I've reconsidered," she said flatly, "You're on for another year,"

Santana was nearly knocked backwards as her classmates erupted in elation, clapping each other's back, hugging, crying, saying things that none of them had ever said to each other before_._

_I love you, I'll see you next year, we can maybe sing together._

Maybe this isn't about _doing_ something different; maybe glee club was all about _being a part_ of something different and sharing it with people who wanted it just as much as she did.

Santana looked at Brittany; perhaps this summer wasn't going to be so bad. Maybe they could just double date and everything would be fine. Santana would still be able to hold onto Brittany's pinkie wouldn't she?

"San?"

"Yes?"

"You're my best friend,"

"You're my best friend too Brittsticks,"


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_What if I run out of road on the highway? Would you turn off the engine?_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Have you ever imagined yourself driving across an empty highway, with the telegraph poles stretching as far as anywhere?

Who was sitting beside you?

It had never been any question of how much Santana loved Brittany, it was always a question of how much courage she had to show her. When they were eighteen she'd promised her, that she would always be the person standing at the end of her highway. The car could break down, it could disappear, she could lose her vision to drive, but nothing would ever stop her from getting back to Brittany. There's a story that her grandfather had always told her, before he passed away, it was about a small water droplet, that had separated from the glass cup it had always belonged to. It had fallen down the drain and become lost amongst the thousands of other droplets in the world. It took all of its will power and all of its strength, but the little droplet finally made its way back to the cup.

She was going to find Britt.

She was going to go to Ohio, she was going to fly there and beg Brittany to remember her. How could she not, Santana was supposed to be at the end of Brittany's highway. She was standing there with a sign telling her that she loved her, and that no one else would ever be right for her. She had been having these surges to buy an airfare and track Brittany down herself.

Q had called her irrational.

"Santana," she had said over dinner the other night, "What have the doctors continuously told you?"

"They don't know Brittany like I do," she had snapped.

They had argued, because they were both as stubborn as each other and it had resulted in Rachel storming from the room.

Santana knocked on their bedroom door, and let herself inside without waiting for an answer. Quinn stood over the bed, her suitcase sprawled open, she was folding clothes and placing them inside.

"Can we start speaking again?" she asked tentatively.

Quinn eyed her, "Do I have a choice?"

"Q," Santana reasoned, throwing her hands in the air.

"I'm sorry," she replied, dumping her jacket in the suitcase and sitting on the edge of the bed. She indicated for Santana to sit beside her.

"I'm being a bitch," she said.

"I'm being an irrational straight up bitch,"

"You've always been that way," Quinn smirked.

Santana pretended to hit her.

"San," she reasoned, "I will never pretend to know what you're going through, but jumping on a plane at whim and flying back to Ohio," she paused to prevent the suitcase from slipping off the bed, "Is madness,"

"Q, Britt needs me!"

"Oh San," she murmured, " I don't want to say this, but Brittany doesn't know she needs you. Think about her. Think about waking up and only knowing things like your first name. Knowing that you live in Ohio with your parents and you're in junior high. To find out that in actual fact, you're twenty five, in a hospital room, in New York,"

Quinn had always been so rational. Santana couldn't answer her, which was so strange because she had always been able to answer Quinn.

"Santana understand what this means for Britt, if you suddenly show up. It means she's gay, not in high school anymore and getting married to a complete stranger,"

Santana felt her insides fall out beneath her, Quinn had always been so direct, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to hear that.

"I'm sorry," she replied noticing Santana's reaction.

"It's fine, it's the truth isn't it?"

Quinn sighed brushing her hands through her golden hair.

"I swear to god Santana as soon as I get back from L.A if you want to get on a flight, I'll pay for them myself,"

"Oh god Q," she responded, "don't be stupid, between your job and Rachel's determination for an early production, I can't ask you to drop your lives like that,"

Quinn stared at her, with the same look she had carried from high school. That look which expressed fearlessness. The only person who had ever been able to wipe that look from Quinn's face was Rachel.

"San, this is you and Britt we're talking about. I'd drop the world for you both. Don't be ridiculous, and you're an idiot if you don't think Rach wouldn't do the same,"

Santana's shoulders slumped, "Don't go,"

Quinn smiled, "This job pays so well San, and it's for Jason Christopher, L.A's leading fashion photographer! It's just a few days, I promise... I need this," she smiled slightly, before looking at Santana with the utmost seriousness, "Look after my girl will you,"

Santana nodded, "You know I will,"

"Come," Quinn said, holding her arms out, and Santana fell into them, breathing a sigh of relief.

**. . .**

The Broadway atmosphere in New York is intricately the most beautiful in the United States. Each of the theatres are designed in their own individual way. Some are modern, others are small and quaint, and some are so wide you can hear your heartbeat echo. But all of them have one thing in common; it's you, the stage and the story being presented before you. Quinn had only been gone a few days, and Santana had already seen a change in Rachel.

_"Santana!"_ she had shrilled this morning as they had argued on whether Santana was going to spend all day in bed, _"I love you, I'm a mess about Brittany as well, and I hate Zoe for what she's done but I need you right now. I'm so stressed about the upcoming show I don't even know what to do with myself. Quinn is in L.A and I just need my best friend….please!"_

Rachel had never been a calm person, but when Quinn was next to her, she balanced Rachel out. Made her more placid. Santana sat behind the audition desk, lamp to her left, Kurt on her right, watching Rachel hassle her actors onto the stage. The director of the show stood beside Kurt, beaming down at them.

"Whenever there's a crisis, Rachel comes to the plate,"

Kurt smirked, "The exact words of our glee club teacher,"

He frowned, "What?"

"Never mind," Santana responded.

When a memory is not shared, its always so hard to find that familiarity. That's why new memories are always meant to be made. The only problem Santana found was that she just wanted the old ones back.

Rachel's production _New York in the Snow_, had been written and processed by the Broadway Theatre Guild and audition allocations had been settled. Until last night when the lead actor had called to say he'd broken his leg. Rachel had literally had a fit. There were no brown paper bags, so Santana had to make her hyperventilate into a vacuum cleaner bag. Now sitting in the Booth Theatre its walls decorated with stain glass windows, and a ceiling that looked like the open night sky, Santana and Kurt watched her work. Santana had pulled some strings at Julliard to get Rachel a line up of actor's that weren't going to be duds. It was so much easier to sort the excellent from the best, rather than trying to find a gem in a pool of rocks.

"Are you having de ja vu?" Kurt whispered leaning into her ear.

Santana stared at their friend ordering nervous actors about on stage and smirked. Rachel Berry, sure thing for Broadway President. Last week she had wanted to literally buy the Booth Theatre herself.

"When's Q back?" Kurt asked.

"Not soon enough," she responded glancing at the notebook sticking out from her hand bag.

"Write it down, San,"

She glanced at him. Kurt had always been so intuitive. Even from the very beginning when she had made a point to ignore him in the school corridors, or taken a stab at his sexuality, he had always known what was underneath her carefully crafted shell. Kurt had always known what to say and when to say it.

"Santana," he said as he straightened his blazer, "Just write everything,"

Santana looked down at the notebook, the pages were stained from the times that she wasn't able to hold the tears back and it had smudged the pages; and left her crisp tears for the world to see. Maybe if she ever got this to Brittany, she'd see how much pain being without her really caused.

She smiled as Kurt handed her a pen, "You write," he grinned, "I'll tell Rachel what man candy she should be hiring!"

The last thing Santana registered before she bowed her head, was Rachel informing an actor that if he did not shave his own chest, she would do it with a lawn mower.

* * *

><p><strong><em>BACK THEN<em>**

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, its already begun_

Summer had been long. It had been hot and lazy and on three separate occasions Santana had almost ripped Brittany's clothes off.

One; they were ridiculously drunk and Brittany had told her she was the prettiest thing she'd seen in her whole life, _Santana had melted_.

Two; it had been scorching hot all day and Santana had suggested they go for a swim, Brittany had forgotten her swimming costume, she'd gone naked, _Santana had died and then melted_.

Three; they had fallen asleep watching an old black and white film and had woken dazed and sleep disorientated. Noses to noses, lips to lips and Santana had inhaled Brittany. Their legs were tangled and Santana could feel her torso pressed against Brittany's. _Titanic hit the freaking iceberg_.

Everyone thought they were the best friends that were overly sexually experienced, but really Santana just guessed her way through experimentation with Puck. Half the time she didn't enjoy it and just sat there empty. Brittany hadn't said anything about sleeping with Artie, and Santana prayed that literally everything of his was paralysed from waste down. Thinking that four wheeler was allowed to be with her in that way, made her hate life.

Summer was over, senior year had hit and Santana was still with Puck, only their relationship had dwindled down to nothing more than sleeping together. He never spoke about anything with her other than if the Titans won out of school games. The night before school had started he did the one thing that made her realise maybe he was going to turn out okay. He had sent her a text message saying that he wanted to sing with her in Glee Club this year, for their last year.

_You have a beautiful voice San, I'll always believe in your voice, no matter what happens._

Brittany, was still with Artie. Santana hated him. She didn't even have a concrete reason to hate him, he had done nothing to her, but she still hated him. Santana had slept at Brittany's house nearly every single night, or at least when she wasn't in Puck's truck or Brittany wasn't wheeling around the streets with stubbles McCripple-Pants. She had learnt poker to the point she and Michael were playing with real money. After the seventh week of vacation she'd worked out that any of the money she was losing he was placing _double_ back into her backpack, so by the time the Fourth of July had rolled around she had over $100 in her bag. She bought them all gifts, and shouted Italian. She loved Brittany's parents. She loved them so much she could walk into the kitchen in the mornings when Brittany was still asleep and just be with them. She'd never been part of a household where two parents were completely in love with each other. They didn't fight in the way her parents had. Their conversations were meaningful, every glance, and every touch meant something. It was everything she wanted with Brittany. Why the hell did fear have to exist in the world? Life would be so much easier without fear.

"Guys listen!" Mr Schue yelled, walking into the room, silence fell over them as he took control of their attention.

"We've got a long stretch ahead of us guys, a long stretch till nationals, and I strongly believe we are firm contenders,"

Puck cheered, and Santana rolled her eyebrows.

"Mr Schue," Rachel asked her hand cascading into the air.

"Yes Rachel," he smirked.

Santana would forever marvel in the man's patience, how he had not managed to peel of his own sock's and shove them down dwarfs mouth she would never know.

"Are you going to place references down on our college application forms?"

"Oh Rachel!" Mercedes moaned, "We've only just started senior year, can you give the college forms a rest!"

Rachel huffed, "Mercedes, it is my full intention to go to the college I desire,"

"Tuition for Hobbits?" Puck asked and the class cracked up.

"Guys enough," Mr Schuester warned, "Rachel is right, you guys need to think about college options, graduation will be knocking at the door any minute"

"Do you want me to open it when it gets here Mr Schue?" Brittany asked.

Santana immediately shot her hand out and took her pinkie; she wanted to pinch her cheeks. As usual Brittany looked at her confused, as though what she had said was actually normal.

"For the next three weeks I have an assignment I want you all to work on,"

The class sat up as he headed to the whiteboard and wrote the word that was going to be their focus for the next few lessons. A slight murmur rippled through them.

"Duets?" Kurt asked.

"Exactly," he responded, "So I want you to pick partners, and the winning duo will get a free meal at Breadsticks!"

Santana and Brittany sat up immediately.

"Firstly though, I want to introduce Sam," he pointed to a blonde haired boy sitting next to Finn, "Sam has just joined us this year, so please make him feel welcomed,"

Santana eyed him up and down, he was cute, but Jesus you could fit a fighter jet into his mouth.

"Think this through guys, pick the songs that will best show off your voice, throw in a dance routine if you want, but have fun!"

A million songs were already racing through Santana's mind.

Mr Schuester made Santana stay back again after class, to which was going to make her late for the jog Quinn had suggested.

"_Ms Sylvester will kill us if we've gained weight over summer,"_ she had said and Santana had guiltily thought about all the marshmallows Layla had been stuffing down her throat.

"Santana," he said, as he packed away the chairs, to stack them against the wall, "What college are you interested in?"

_Why was he taking such an interest in her?_

"I really don't know Mr Schuester,"

"Oh come on Santana, surely there's one place you have your eye on?"

_Well yes, but it would be impossible for me to get into, and you need a kick ass reference to which all of her teachers either hated her, or didn't know she actually existed. _

"No, not really,"

He eyed her, in that same look that for some reason acted like some truth serum. Mr Schue seemed to be able to bleed the truth out of her no matter how hard she tried to send him off in the another direction.

"Julliard," she choked out.

He raised his eyebrows and she flushed red.

"I told you it was stupid,"

"No Santana, I was actually hoping you would choose a college such as that,"

She looked at him, and he could see how much she doubted herself.

"We'll work on it this year okay?"

Santana nodded, unsure of what it meant, but he believed in her, a grown adult actually believed she could make it. Maybe when graduation came knocking, she wasn't going to slam the door in its face.


	15. Chapter 14

Hey Little Readers,

Firstly, thank you for all your feedback. Honestly it helps and it keeps me updating!

Remember guys, I know it's so hard to see this happening to San and Britt (it hurts to write it lol) but things are going to get far more complicated before the air can clear!

This was always going to be a **LONGGGG** journey, so hang in there, and don't quit on me!

Court

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

_I just want to hear your voice, whisper my name and I promise I'll come running_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Santana stared at her phone, as she lay on her stomach. The wooden pales beneath her were hot in the morning sunlight, from where she lay on Rachel and Quinn's balcony, listening to the traffic hum below her. She wanted to pick up the phone and just call her. Rachel wasn't home until later this afternoon, she wouldn't know she had called Brittany. You never realise how much you take for granted all the small things you share with someone until you're forced to be without them. Brittany's voice was the one thing that she missed the most. Even if she couldn't see her, or touch her, at the end of the day it had always been about the words that came from Brittany's mouth. All the nights she spent on the phone with her, the personal jokes they shared in glee club, the _I love yous_ whispered in the dark. When she was at work and Brittany would call and leave a message just to say how good she looked walking out the door.

Words hold so much power in the world, they make you feel, they make you forget, they heal you, and they break you. Hearing Brittany's voice whisper her name had always been the one thing Santana had never lost faith in. The one thing that no matter where they were in their lives, if Brittany would call Santana's name, she would be there in a heartbeat.

Santana hadn't heard her name in months.

The phone blinked at her, and before Santana had time to properly register what she was doing, she snapped it open and dialled the number, she would never forget. It didn't even ring, it reverted straight to voicemail;

'_hey you've reached Britt, I'm probably dancing or marrying my girl!'_ there was a small laugh and then '_leave a message,'_

Santana hung her head, _oh god she had changed the message_.

It was so recent, she hadn't even heard what is was, before the accident had happened. It was Brittany, just being Brittany. She had just heard her fiancé's voice for the first time in so long. The tears welled in her eyes as Santana opened the phone again and re dialled. She spent the next hour lying on the balcony, the sun beating down on her back, listening to Brittany's voicemail and pretending she was right beside her.

. . .

"Two weeks!" Rachel screamed into her phone, "I have two weeks until production commences; a sold out crowd and you're telling me the ice machines have broken? Well then perhaps I should just call frosty the snowman and he can do the job better!"

Santana glanced up from the salad she had put together to see Rachel storm through the door. She closed the laptop and moved it to the corner of the kitchen bench, praying that the transaction had been finalised before she'd closed it.

Rachel was livid.

"Idiots!" she yelled, "I literally have to do everything myself or it doesn't get done. Do you think I could make fake snow from ice cubes? I'll just chop them myself?"

Santana bit her lip, "I made us dinner?" she offered.

Rachel seemed to brighten, "Oh San, I'm sorry," she stepped around the bench and hugged her middle, "How was your day?"

Santana sighed, "Rachel I think I've done something you might not like," She could never keep anything from her, that was her biggest problem, no matter how hard she tried, she had never been able to hide anything from her.

Rachel frowned, "Try me," she said warily.

Santana huffed and opened the laptop, showing the invoice tickets for a plane flight to Atlanta.

Rachel seemed perplexed, "You've lost me,"

"Kurt is going to stay with you for a couple of nights while I fly to Atlanta. I need to see Puck,"

Rachel nearly choked on the tomato she had placed in her mouth, "First Quinn and now you, are you scared of catching Berry Virus?"

Santana smiled at the small reference to the camping trip that one summer before college had started, "Rachel!" she said softly, "It's not that... I love you, but I'm so destroyed right now, I don't have an rational or logical thought in my head. I need perspective,"

"Just for two days?"

"Kurt picks me up from JFK on Friday, just in time for Q as well,"

Rachel gave a small nod in response, "Friday looks like my favourite day this week, say hi to Puck and Gabby?"

Santana did nothing but embrace her, "Thank you," she whispered in her ear.

* * *

><p><strong><em>BACK THEN<em>**

_Open your eyes B, It's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior year, a little past the beginning_

Santana watched as Rachel wiped the red liquid from the side of her face with a fresh set of paper towels.

"You could almost use these as a dress midget," she smirked.

Rachel's lip quivered slightly, as she moved onto mopping her hair. The first day she'd worn her hair out in months. She should have predicted this would happen.

"You're not going to cry are you, god you'll flood the toilets," Santana snapped, applying her lip gloss over her lips for the third time today.

She was delaying time in the bathrooms, stalling through English class because next period was Cheerio practice. Ms Sylvester was on an all-out campaign to secure a national title for senior year. Santana was positively sure if they didn't win, the coach would murder each of them in their sleep. What was even more absurd is that she wanted them to start making video tapes so she could store away her routines for future years. Really, Santana just wanted to see Britt, and Berry juice was using all the damn paper towels.

"What would you know Santana?"

Santana raised her eyebrows, "Since when did you develop an attitude Berry?"

Rachel threw the paper towels in the bins just under the vanity, before leaning over the basin and beginning to sob.

Santana backed away slightly as if the girl was a ticking time bomb that would explode of she took another step forward.

_God berry all over the walls, gross._

"I don't understand why she had to do it, it's so much worse coming from her,"

Santana's annoyed face turned into a frown as she glared at her.

"Who Berry? What are you so Oprah about? Slushies are your thing; they suit your complexion,"

Santana almost smiled at her backwards compliment, _points to me!_

"Quinn!" she said, snapping at her, "Quinn did this!"

Santana raised her eyes, "Well of course she would Berry, you stole her boyfriend,"

"I'm only with Finn to keep him away from Qu…" she shut her mouth with a snap.

"What?" Santana asked, eying her suspiciously.

"Nothing," she responded.

"That was not nothing," Santana said, holding her palm to the bathroom door, so Rachel couldn't escape.

"You wouldn't understand Santana, you don't have any idea what its like to come to school every day pretending to be someone you're not. You don't know how it feels to like someone so much, that you'd sacrifice everything just so you don't have to see them be with anyone else because it's too hard. And what's even worse, is the only reason you're doing that, is because you know they would never be with you!"

Santana let Rachel push passed her and run from the bathrooms, more so because she was in shock, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Rachel may just be dating Finn to keep him away from Quinn for some reason. It had everything to do with the fact she may be just like Rachel Berry.

Santana had the same problems as _Rachel freaking Berry_. She wanted to throw up.

. . .

"So we're not cheating because you're a girl and I'm a girl, and Puck and Artie are boys?"

Santana placed a warm kiss to the side of Brittany's neck, "Exactly," she said.

She didn't know how she had come up with this theory. Mainly because it was completely wrong, and Brittany either did know the difference or she was just pretending not to, but either way they really were cheating and just ignoring it, so long as they didn't mention feelings then everything was fine. Feelings stayed out in the yard with a pad lock and a key that was missing in action. Santana ran her tongue over the crevices of Brittany's collarbone, trailing her lips up to Brittany's cheek and pressing tightly.

Brittany laughed, "You tickle me sometimes,"

Santana smirked, prying Brittany's lips open and running her tongue along the insides of her mouth.

"San, I like your lips so much better,"

She froze slightly, mainly because Brittany had made a small but not so subtle reference to her relationship with Artie. This was not allowed. The rules had been broken. She seemed to gather what she had said because she shifted Santana's weight and suddenly Santana had fallen between her legs.

_Christ _she muttered and she forgot what they were talking about.

Brittany was like chocolate, Santana loved unwrapping her and tasting her, _god she tasted so good_.

"San," Brittany whispered.

"mmmm," she responded, barely audible, she was too busy tracing the lines in Brittany's neck with her tongue.

"I want to do the duet with you_,_"

Santana stopped what she was doing to look at her, she stared directly down at Brittany, her hair falling and tracing over Brittany's cheek.

"Britts, I promise Puck I would…."

"No, I know, but I thought maybe you and me could do a duet too, I thought maybe we could do Melissa Etheridge's _Come to my Window_,"

Santana froze as the alarms bells went off a million miles an hour.

"Brittany," she said, pulling herself up off her and stretching out onto the bed, "That is a feelings song; we said we weren't going to do that,"

"Santana," she moaned, "Artie and I talk about feelings all the time and it's so much better, I want to talk about my feelings with you!"

"We said no feelings!"

"But I'm confused! And you don't talk about anything and I don't understand!"

Santana dragged herself completely off the bed, grabbing her backpack that she'd left near Brittany's desk.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Home,"

"Why?" Brittany responded confused, "We were going to cuddle tonight and keep each other warm,"

Santana literally wanted to dump the backpack on the ground and jump on her. Just kiss her and tell her over and over again about how they should be together and no one else mattered. But she'd always done the exact opposite of what her heart told her to. That was one of her greatest flaws. Ignoring her heart.

"Not tonight Brittsticks, I'll see you tomorrow,"

"But now who's going to keep me warm?"

"Use socks," Santana said and turned out the door, the look on Brittany's made her want to shoot herself.

Layla stopped Santana before she walked from the front door, "Goodnight sweetheart," she said, "Not staying over tonight?"

Santana looked to her feet, "No, not tonight,"

"Have you and Britt had a fight?"

Santana didn't exactly want to confess to the woman that she'd just spent half the night with her tongue in and out of her daughters mouth. Or that she may have feelings for her daughter and was unsure of whether she was a lesbian, who could then also perhaps also make her daughter a lesbian by accidental default.

"Santana?" she asked again.

"No everything's good, I just need to be home in morning, because the yard guy is mowing the lawns,"

_What the actual fuck Santana, you live on the second floor of an apartment complex. ITS CONCRETE!_

Layla smiled, as though she had literally just read her mind, "Can I tell you a secret?"

Santana tilted her head, before nodding.

"Do you remember when you left in junior high? For those two years,"

Christ they felt like forever ago now, as though she'd never left in the first place.

"Yes," she mumbled.

"Brittany use to keep a picture of you on her bedside. Every night she use to tell me that you would come back to her,"

_Santana melted._

"Chin up, San," she smiled holding the door open, and gently doting her nose with the end of her finger, "Britt will be waiting in the morning,"

Santana left the Pierce's house, wanting to climb back up the thatch gutter railing and into Brittany's bed where she belonged.


	16. Chapter 15

This one is such a long chapter! I think I didnt come up for air for a while haha! Then when I went to upload it said Id reached maximum capacity? I had a heart attack... "there's so much more!" I screamed... crisis averted though (after the blonde moment)... so low and behold... next installement :)

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 15<strong>

_Feelings. Feelings. Feelings. How are you feeling?_

* * *

><p><strong><em>NOW<em>**

Santana stared at the Atlanta skyline from Puck's balcony. Her favourite thing about Atlanta was that unlike its surrounding southern cities, it had chosen to progress with all the developments of the world. The buildings were modern, sky risers littered the hub of the city and the freeways worked like network mazes across the suburbs, everything was connected. At night the city reminded her of a treasure chest, its lights lit up the buildings like jewels you'd find in the toy box.

"Santana?"

She turned slightly, the coffee mug wedged between her palms, still warm from when it had been brewed. Gabby stepped out from the back door onto the balcony. She was glowing.

Santana had arrived yesterday morning to discover that Gabby was three months pregnant.

At least the shock had worn off a little.

"You're not still mad are you?"

Santana's shoulders slumped as she looked at the petite woman standing before her, long chestnut hair flowing freely around her shoulders, her grey eyes a mix of anguish and concern.

"No Gabby! No, I'm sorry," she said, "I was just shocked and felt guilty you both thought you needed to keep this from me,"

"Santana we didn't want to, but with everything…well," she trailed off.

Santana moved towards her, and placed a hand to her stomach. The smallest bump was evident under Gabrielle's clothes.

"I'm so happy, Noah is going to be such a good Dad,"

Gabby smiled, "He is isn't he,"

They laughed, a shared understanding of how the boy they had glimpses of had turned into a man.

"Help me cook?" she asked and Santana laughed.

"Contrary to your beliefs just because I'm Latino doesn't necessitate I'm good in the kitchen,"

Gabby shrugged, "Rachel always goes on about your chilli dishes,"

Santana raised her eyebrows, "Okay now those I can vouch for,"

**. . .**

"Do you think I'll be a good dad?"

Santana glanced from where she was double checking her flight information. Puck was looking at her with this expression that insisted he was sure of himself but then completely unsure of himself all at the same time.

She smiled at him, "Of course you will, you goof! Look at those guns!"

Puck had been the only man that Santana had been attracted to, and could have seen herself marrying, that was of course if she was straight and not completely and utterly in love with Brittany.

He'd taken all of her firsts. Her first kiss in elementary that neither of them really remembers, her first relationship that had lasted two days. Her first rebound relationship. He was the first to take her virginity and the first to leave her completely antagonised. The only thing that Puck had never managed to secure, the only thing he had not taken first, was her heart. Brittany had done that all on her own.

"Noah," she reasoned, and she knew he seemed to soften at the use of his first name. Santana rarely used his first name. Maybe that was why he had married Gabby, because in the entire time she had known him, Gabby had only ever referred to him as Noah.

"You are going to be the most wonderful father. You are going to be gentle and strict and loving all at once,"

He seemed to shrug a little, he'd never been good at taking compliments. Advice yes, compliments no.

"Do you know why you'll be a good Dad?" she tried again, "because you're so understanding. I was a mess in high school, a complete mess and out of all my mess, you seemed to grow up. You grew up and then forced me to grow up too. I would not be half the person I am now, if it weren't for you,"

He grinned, placed her suitcase down on the ground and scooped her up into a hug. "I believe in you Santana," he said, in the same tone, in the same way he had always said it over the years. When Puck said this to her, Santana _believed_ him.

"Now," she said settling herself, "I have a plane,"

"You're going to be okay? You remember what we talked about?"

"Yes," she breathed, "no illogical thinking. I finish retracing the story and then present it to Brittany when I know the facts,"

"And" he probed.

"Time," Santana said, "I give her time,"

"And…?"

Santana grumbled briefly, "I shall not saturate myself in information that may or may not be accurate, and I shall stop calling the hospital every single day,"

He nodded please that this had sunk in.

"Honestly Puck, I don't even understand how…."

"Virgin Atlantic doesn't serve meals on a six hour flight?"

Santana whirled around at the familiar voice behind her, and marvelled at Quinn standing before them. Rapsack slung over her shoulder, wearing the most adorable summer dress, and glowing brown. Typical Californian glow.

"Q?"

"No lady Gaga," she responded, smirking.

"Quinn, what the hell, you're supposed to be..."

"Returning from Los Angeles," she interrupted, "I'm quite simply stopping over,"

Santana raised her eyebrows, "How did you know…?"

"San," she replied, "My girlfriend runs a production company. You don't think the moment she found out about Gabby's pregnancy she wouldn't make sure my flight coincided with yours. Just because she was fully aware Puck would be with you and…" she placed her bag at her feet, stepped around Santana and hugged him, "Insist I congratulate him from the both of us," she smiled.

Puck looked at Santana, "You said you didn't call anyone!"

"How could I not!" she said shrugging.

Quinn let Puck go before hugging Santana tightly, "Looks like I can nap on something comfy after all,"

Santana smirked, "god I hate you in your sleep, you're violent,"

"I know, Rachel's already threatened to apply for a violence order,"

Puck grabbed the both of them and pulled them into a hug, "You'll miss your flight if you don't go,"

Santana squeezed back, "Please learn to use emails, I want ultra sound photos scanned!"

"Oh San, you know I hate…"

"It's that or Rachel Berry's guide to midwifery,"

"I'll email you as soon as you both land," he replied, smirking.

If you pick one place in the world, that you thought showed the rawest emotions, where would you pick? For Santana, it was always the airport. When she had been in college, she use to drive her car southbound to JFK, park in one of the long terms bays, and sneak into one of the terminals. She could sit for hours on one of the chairs and watch all the people as their flights landed. People came undone at airports; they showed their inner most feelings. There were people crying because they had to say goodbye, people crying because they were so happy to see their friends or family come home or people crying because they were leaving. The one thing that always stood apart from any other gesture was that first or final hug. You lingered. You lingered because you didn't want to ever leave their arms again.

When Quinn and Santana arrived in JFK, Kurt was waiting as promised. As they reached the baggage carousel, he stood near the exit eyeing them and then pointing to an elderly lady attempting to pull her suitcase from the revolver. Santana pardoned herself and helped the woman retrieve the bag. _Kurt _she mused smiling at the woman, _America's gayest guardian angel. _

In a rush of long brown hair, and a squeal of "_baby don't ever go away again_", Rachel had almost tackled Quinn to the ground.

Quinn caught off guard laughed at the surprise.

"Beautiful!" she said cupping her face and kissing her firmly, "I didn't know you'd be here!"

"Try keeping her away, she was like a dog collecting her bone," Kurt responded, nudging Santana.

She smiled slightly, as Rachel leant over and kissed her cheek, "Missed you," she whispered.

Santana walked beside Kurt, _airports bring out your rawest emotions_, right now, all Santana wanted was for Brittany to be standing in the terminal.

That night, Santana stood in her own apartment shower. After a somewhat tug-of-war with her apartment keys she had convinced Rachel and Quinn that she needed to be there for a while, and they needed their space. Even if Rachel began shouting at her in Spanish swear words, that didn't even really make sense because she'd never properly grasped them from when Santana had attempted to teach her; Santana had seen the look on Quinn's face. It was a look that had been a mutual understanding since high school.

_Thank you. _

The heat of the water felt so good on her skin, it twisted down her body and landed at her feet in a way that made her feel alive for the first time in months. The only problem was right now, all she wanted was to be like the water running over her body. She wanted to wash away with it, and disappear down the drain.

_Time_, Puck had said, _Give it time_.

Santana didn't know how to measure time though. People always say that time heals all wounds, time forgives and releases all the anguish inside someone. Time builds fresh memories and time helps to remember old ones. As Santana turned off the shower faucet and wrapped a towel around her body, she wanted to know how much time was classified as forever.

* * *

><p><strong>BACK THEN<strong>

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, we're past the beginning._

Brittany hadn't spoken to her in a few days.

Glee club had sung their duets on Thursday, and when Brittany had sung hers with Artie, Santana had looked away. Not speaking to Brittany was like not breathing, if Santana remained stubborn any longer, she felt as though she might explode.

"I've noticed you haven't been speaking to Brittany,"

Santana jumped slightly and hurriedly pushed her cheerio's top down to hide her exposed skin. If this ruined her tan line, she wouldn't be happy.

Rachel Berry stood on the bleachers, school books tucked under her arm and wearing one of her stupid animal sweaters even though the weather was ridiculously hot.

"Berry, you'd notice an ant moving ant moulds, if it meant you could interrogate it,"

Rachel seemed perplexed, "Santana that didn't make any sense,"

Santana groaned swear words in Spanish, "Why are you here! This is where cheerio's hang out,"

Rachel cocked an eyebrow, "Well where are they?"

Santana seethed at that remark, mostly because it was quite true.

"Go away Berry, go hang out with Finnocence,"

Rachel lingered for a moment, "I wanted to talk to you,"

Santana rolled her eyes, "Not open for business,"

Santana stared in somewhat mild shock as Rachel continued to climb the bleachers, so that Rachel sat herself down directly next to her.

"Do you not like that Brittany is dating Artie?"

Santana folded her arms, "What part of go away did you misunderstand?"

"Why do you have to be such a bitch all the time Santana? I just want to talk to you, because I don't really think we're all that different, and you just want to keep bullying me. I know it was you that wrote that nasty anonymous hate on the video I posted last week. Did you know how long it took me to do that?" she paused slightly to which Santana was now cursing herself for showing guilt.

"And here I was giving you positive comments on your cheerio's routine,"

"Let me guess, you're sign in name is starshine_3?"

Rachel nodded and Santana had no idea why she was feeling bad about those comments she'd written. She'd laughed about it with Quinn. Then again Brittany had told her that it was mean. Maybe she should have believed Britt.

It was like word vomit then. This unrelentless surge of words that just came tumbling from her mouth and she didn't even know why it had happened.

"I don't like Britt and Artie dating, I don't know why, I just don't. Don't ask why Berry because I'm still asking myself. But I hate it."

Rachel shrugged, "You want Brittany for yourself?"

Santana stared at her, "I'm not gay. Well I don't think… I can't believe I am actually speaking about this with you. No actually I can't believe I'm speaking to you!"

She was talking about feelings with Rachel Berry. She couldn't even do that with Brittany and here she was pouring her heart and soul to _Rachel freaking Berry_.

"You rely on labels too much Santana,"

Santana frowned, "Put that in English Berry, I'm an immigrant,"

Rachel ignored her blaise comment, "Well my Dads are gay, but I don't see them as being gay as such, they're just my Dads who love each other. Why do you have to put a name to everything you see. Love shouldn't be about labelling. It should be about whoever you're connected with,"

Santana looked at her, and not just looked at her, with her huge schnoz, or how small her entire frame was compared to the personality she eluded. Santana really actually looked at her. "You've thought a lot about this haven't you?"

Rachel shrugged, "Well when you're wiping slushies from your hair and trying to explain to your Daddy that the stain will come out of the expensive sweater he just bought you, well you tend to try and think of reasons why people do things. I think the world is scared of labels. Everyone has to be something right? No one wants to be a nobody,"

"You're not a no body Rachel…" Santana caught herself before she finished the sentence, realising what _door_ she'd just opened.

"Well then why do you bully me so much?"

Santana sighed, you learn something every day don't you. Today she'd learnt how to have a conversation with Rachel Berry.

"I'm jealous of how open you are with everything. You know what you want and you don't stop until you get it,"

Rachel thought on this for a moment, "I think you should go get Britt,"

Santana stilled, "Rachel I thought we decided that I was not…."

"I'm not labelling you Santana," she shrugged, "but I am pointing out that you have feelings for Brittany that you can't seem to control them. You don't hate Artie. You hate that he's with Brittany,"

The girl made perfect sense. What in the world was this?

"You do realise that I'm not going to change how I am towards you," she said suddenly, "I have a reputation, and you stole Quinn's boyfriend, don't think this means we can talk,"

Rachel shrugged, "One day you'll realise that who people think you are, doesn't nearly matter as much as who _you_ think you are Santana,"

Santana grappled with this comment for a moment.

"Besides," Rachel quipped smiling, "Maybe one day we'll be friends!"

Santana rolled her eyes, "Keep dreaming hobbit,"

**. . .**

Ms Holliday was the coolest substitute teacher Santana had ever been taught by. She knew Spanish so much better than Mr Schuester. She knew how to _swear_ in Spanish. _What a lady!_ She had been taking Glee Club for the past few days, because Mr Schuester had come down with a virus, Santana thought maybe the germs were living in all those vests he was wearing.

"Can I talk to you?"

Santana jumped slightly, almost dropping all the books she was trying to stuff back in her locker. How can your locker be so ridiculously full when you went out of your way _not_ to buy the textbooks?

Brittany stood next to her, wearing the jumper Santana had bought her last year.

_Santana melted._

"I miss you," Brittany said flatly, "I miss you coming over all the time, Mum and Dad always ask where you are. Lord Tubbington is really worried. And I'm worried. Have I done something wrong?"

Santana shut her locker door, "No Brittsticks of course you haven't"

"Santana I really want to talk about this. I really want to talk about how we kiss and stuff and hold hands when no one else is around,"

"Britt," she sighed, "I told you I don't want labels, I don't want…"

"Santana," she interrupted, "I think we should talk to somebody, like an adult. This relationship is really confusing for me,"

Santana ears started ringing as soon as Brittany had mentioned the word relationship. _Wait what?_

"Who Britts? I don't know whether I feel comfortable…"

"Ms Holliday," Brittany suddenly called, looking over Santana's shoulder, "Can we speak to you?"

Santana watched as Ms Holliday turned on her heel and headed towards them, "Of course you can girls, how can I help?"

Ms Holliday made them sit on the floor in one of the English classrooms. She said that if they sat in a circle it would encourage positive energy, but somehow Santana wasn't feeling overly positive.

"Why are we here girls?" She asked.

"We need help," Brittany said softly, "Santana doesn't like to talk about her feelings,"

Ms Holliday raised her eyebrows, and Santana flushed.

"Are you two going out?"

"I'm going out with Artie and Santana is going out with Puck, but we kiss and stuff when no one else is looking,"

Santana's shoulders slumped, _how did that just sound so wrong?_

Ms Holliday eyed Santana, "So you're both cheating on your respective boyfriends?"

"No," Brittany replied, "because the plumbing's different,"

Ms Holliday was now focused on Santana, and it was all she could do to not want to crawl into a really large hole.

"Santana how do you feel about Brittany?" she asked.

_I love her, I love her so much and I just want her to be with me, because I could make her happy and give her anything she ever wanted. We fit, we've always fit._

Santana mumbled something that no one heard, so Ms Holliday tried with Brittany.

"Brittany how do you feel about Santana?"

"She's my best friend, but I'm confused because I like it when she kisses me, but then Artie talks about his feelings with me and I like that too,"

"Do you think your lesbians?"

"I hate labels," Santana snapped defensively.

Brittany nodded, "She only likes Gucci type labels,"

Ms Holliday smirked at Brittany's innocence.

"Well perhaps it really doesn't matter what you are, it just matters how you feel, and who you have a connection with?"

"But that's just it," Brittany said annoyed, "Santana won't tell me,"

"What if she doesn't tell you? She sings instead?"

Santana looked up immediately.

"Glee club is next period, how about you two offer to do a song?"

Brittany looked at Santana.

She looked so cute today, she always just looked so damn amazing, why the hell was it so hard to tell her how she really felt. She was so scared, why did she have to be so scared?

"I have the perfect song," Santana murmured.

When Santana had first heard Fleetwood macs _Landslide_, it had never really had the same effect on her than it did now. Singing this song with Brittany and Ms Holliday was like writing out her own love song. No one else was in the room, all she could see was Britt staring back at her, singing the same lyrics as she was. It almost like Santana could see the lyrics bounce around the room. They trailed over the walls, they danced over Brittany's lips and then they settled themselves just above Santana's chest, where her heart was beating, and they did something that Santana hadn't allowed them to do yet. They unlocked the door that she had so strategically hidden the key for, and they settled themselves inside her heart. Santana was thankful none of the other Glee Club members made any comments, just assumed they wanted to belt out a tune to waste some time. No one said anything, they just let her and Britt settle back into their chairs. Only Santana's eyes had caught Rachel and for a brief moment, she could have sworn Rachel nodded, as if to say Santana had been brave. That moment, right after she'd sung that song, right after that look with Rachel, was the start of Santana's long standing respect for Rachel Berry.

Santana found Brittany at the lockers packing up to go home. She moved tentatively to her, unsure of how she felt about everything that had happened today. It was like a roller-coaster ride that had just been on repeat for months and then all of a sudden had come to a screeching halt, the only problem was neither of them knew what ride to go on next.

"Britt," she said softly, and she looked up, those bright blue eyes all glassy from where tears had welled in them earlier.

"I wanted to thank you for singing that song with me in Glee Club. 'Cause it made me do a lot of thinking. What I realized... "Santana paused for a moment, Brittany was staring at her so intently she was losing her ability to speak.

"What I realized," she continued, "is why I'm such a bitch all the time. I'm a bitch because I'm angry. Because I have all of these feelings. Feelings for you, that I'm afraid of dealing with, because I'm afraid of dealing with the consequences… do you understand what I'm trying to say here?"

Brittany straightened her backpack and tilted her head slightly, she bit her lip in a way that sent Santana over the edge, "No, not really,"

Santana inhaled a deep breathe, "Brittsticks, I want to be with you. But I'm afraid of the talks and the looks. I mean, you know what happened to Kurt at this school,"

Brittany shrugged, "Santana who cares what anyone else thinks,"

"No I know, I'm just so afraid of what everyone will say behind my back. Still, I have to accept that... I love you. I love you a-and I don't want to be Puck, or any other guy, ever. I just want you. Please say you love me back. Please,"

Brittany stared at her, "Santana I do love you, you know I do. But I can't break up with Artie; I can't do that to him. He was so honest with me from the start,"

"Brittsticks, he's just a stupid boy,"

"Santana it wouldn't be fair,"

Santana wanted to drown. She had stood here at this damn locker and peeled away each of her layers, so Brittany could finally see inside, only for her to tell her she couldn't hurt the four wheeler. _Why the hell not?_

"Where do we go from here," she whispered.

Brittany reached out and touch Santana's arm, it sent shivers down her spine, "I don't know," she whispered.

Like some sick trick that universe had decided to play, Artie wheeled up not even five seconds later.

"Ready Britt Britt?" he said smiling, "Hi Santana,"

Santana didn't even bother responding to him, the way he had said Brittany's name like that made her rage. She should be the only one allowed to refer to her like that.

"I'll talk to you soon San," she said quietly, before gently sitting in Artie's lap and allowing him to wheel her away.

Santana leant back on the lockers, her eyes stung with tears as she folded her arms into herself. "Stupid _hurt locker"_ she said angrily, palming it roughly with one of her hands, "feelings suck,"

"But ice-cream doesn't," came a small voice.

Santana glanced to her side; Rachel Berry was standing beside her.

"Oh listen Berry; I am not in the mood,"

"I'll buy you ice-cream and you can tell every customer in the entire store I escaped the shire with Bilbo Baggins. I'm a hobbit on the loose and there's prize money for my return,"

Santana smirked, "You really do think about things too much,"

Rachel offered her arm, and Santana out of god only knows what change, took it.


	17. Chapter 16

Little readers

Just quickly. I know every reader interprets things differently, but I just wanted to clarify my use of _italics_ haha. I use italics when someone (mostly Santana) is thinking, when something has been said in the past e.g. Rachel had said the other day "_insert italic conversation_" or when I'm trying to _emphasise_ something.

Okay this may have been pointless but I just wanted to let you know what was going on in my head!

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 16<strong>

_If you're my snowflake, do you promise you'll never melt?_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Santana had always found New York City intoxicating. Having Rachel live and breathe Broadway, Santana had been to countless of Broadway shows, whether they were well publicised or only viewed by a handful of people. She'd found everything about them overwhelming, thrilling and inspiring. Rachel's shows gave a different set of emotions all together. She was trying to contain excitement and pride and then trying to calm Quinn. It had always been a pattern; Quinn was a complete mess up until the moment they stepped from the cab. Then all of a sudden she put on this calm and collectiveness. Her theory was that being the Producers girlfriend she had to act as if they did a show every day, this was natural. The being said, once Quinn switched modes, it was Santana whose nerves seem to unravel.

"Why in all that is Rachel Berry famous, does her girlfriend and best friend have to wait in line for her own damn production?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Santana, you know our theory on equality,"

"I also know my theory on my VMA award; I don't wait for no one,"

Quinn raised her eyebrows before she narrowed them painfully, "Any news on Britt?"

Santana shuddered, "No,"

"And the book?"

"It's getting there,"

"When are you going to see her?"

"When I've got enough to show her the life we've made,"

Quinn bit her lip, "You know Santana I've been thinking…"

"No," Santana cut her off, "Not tonight, please not tonight, this is Rachel's night,"

Quinn nodded as they reached the entrance doors. A young man was waiting for them with a bunch of roses in arms.

"As requested Miss Fabray,"

"Good boy," Quinn smiled taking them from him.

Santana followed her backstage, every security guard knew they were here for Rachel and even if they didn't know that, they knew who Santana was.

Rachel was running around as though she was on roller skates, Santana had never fathomed how much control and efficiency she had at these things. Everything was done at a million miles an hour with Rachel.

She stopped midway between helping to carry an enormous sized sky scraper; the backstage attendant struggled to continue carrying it but Rachel jumped up and down at Quinn and Santana's appearance.

"You're here already!"

"Well Q, insisted on waiting in the '_equal_' line," Santana muttered.

Rachel laughed, "I love you," she said kissing her.

"I love _you_," Quinn responded, handing her the roses.

Rachel gushed, "God you make me…" she trailed off realising that perhaps her train of thought might be inappropriate.

"It'll start in about half an hour, so get your seats and come see me in the intervals,"

Quinn nodded "And Kurt is…"

"Front row, live streaming to Blaine and Mercedes, what else,"

Santana smirked, "Okay so you'll be fine and we're here and…"

"San," Rachel said, holding out the programme for the show, "It was mostly Kurt's idea, but look at the bottom,"

Santana glanced over the brightly decorated programme cover; '_New York in the Snow_' looked so enticing, she probably would have seen it even if she knew nothing about Broadway and theatre. She smirked at the star next to Rachel's name. But then her eyes scanned over the sentence in the middle of the programme.

'_Dedicated to Brittany, a snowflake who belongs in New York'_

Santana melted.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, It's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, around the middle_

Santana stared as Layla poured the syrup over her stack of pancakes. She tried desperately not to drool over how good it looked.

"Sweetheart, learn to control your _'Homer Simpson'_ expressions!" she laughed.

Santana marvelled at the fact the women new who Homer Simpson was. _She was so cool_.

Brittany was still sleeping. Last night she had begged Santana to stay over after Cheerio's practice, despite Santana's best efforts to find every excuse under the sun not to. But Brittany had managed to convince her none the less. Santana wasn't sure what they were, or where they stood after everything; but as Brittany had pointed out during Glee Club the other day, they were best friends before any of these feelings surfaced.

_"Santana I need my best friend,"_ she had whispered, "_Out of everything can you just please promise my best friend stays around?"_

Santana had melted.

She melted like she usually melted.

So, instead of returning home to her mother who had previously converted to an all organic diet, she had watched too many episodes of Sweet Valley High with Britts. They'd laughed over some stupid cat video on YouTube and then Brittany had fallen asleep in Santana's lap. Santana had stayed awake watching her. Christ she didn't know what she loved more, staring at Brittany's lips all through Glee Club, or watching her sleep. Santana could always tell when Brittany was dreaming, because her left eyebrow would quiver. Sometimes Santana pretended Brittany was dreaming about her.

Stubbles Mc Cripple Pants was none the wiser to her growing dislike for him, which enabled her to throw insults at him and pretend it was just her _'keeping it real'_. Inside it was literally tearing her apart. Every touch, every kiss, every time he called Brittany _baby_ made her want to vomit. Then there was Rachel Berry. Santana had actually gone to her house the other day. She had literally entered the dwarfs den, met the two gay Dads and been dragged up the stairs to the bedroom to give tips on Rachel's next solo. She had, despite all her best efforts to argue with her own self, really enjoyed Rachel's company. Rachel attacked every single one of Santana's excuses to keep quiet about her feelings.

"Santana stop kidding yourself; Santana I think you should follow an express attitude and not repress; Santana you have a really husky voice, are you sure you're not permanently sick?"

Rachel Berry was like having some sort of PR rep. She knew so much it astounded Santana at just how much she didn't know herself. She liked Rachel's Dads, they were decent men, and they made her laugh. But meeting them helped her understand how the hell Rachel had turned out the way she was. Quinn hadn't exactly caught onto this friendship developing with Berry, mainly because if she did, Santana could kiss her reputation goodbye. She was already dealing with Brittany's rejection, she couldn't handle anymore. So secret alliance it was, Rachel had dubbed it T_he Berpez Operation_, to which Santana had asked why her name needed to be first in everything.

Rachel had blamed the alphabet, Santana had blamed her ego.

It's strange when all someone's grievances suddenly became their greatest assets. Rachel wasn't small, annoying and over ambitious anymore. She was, now in Santana's eyes strong, determined and, well, yes she was still small.

"Santana!"

Santana snapped out of her trance with the pancakes.

"Sorry," she mumbled realising that Michael had been asking her a question.

"I said," he repeated with a smirk, "Did you sleep okay?"

_No, I spent the whole night wanting to put my hands down your daughter pants._

"Yeah, I slept great,"

Lord Tubbington suddenly jumped up onto the bench, knocking the juice jug and sloshing apple juice all over the bench. Layla grumbled as Santana laughed.

"This damn cat," she said shooing him away from the food.

"Eat," Michael instructed pushing Santana's plate closer to her.

Santana tucked into the stack that had been provided to her courtesy of the best possible cook in the world. Layla and Michael watched her. They had a thing for watching her. It was this protectiveness in their eyes, almost like whatever movement she made they were making sure she didn't hurt herself whilst doing it. She loved it. She loved having them there. Maybe this was why she couldn't ignore Brittany. No matter how hard is was to see her with Artie, she couldn't bare not to be in her life. Brittany came as a package; Layla and Michael were a part of that package. They came as well, and so did damn Lord Tubbington. Santana couldn't be without them, she had grown so attached now.

"I saw the most interesting thing the other day," Layla quipped piling pancakes in front of Michael.

Santana could taste the tang of the syrup in her mouth, it was so good!

"What was it?" Santana asked swallowing.

Layla looked at Michael who grinned, "Show her,"

Layla laughed and reached into the cupboard below her, bringing out a large box.

Santana frowned, "Mrs P, I'm pretty sure we grow out of cardboard boxes when we're five?"

Michael shrugged, "Took Britts a little longer,"

"Open it," Layla insisted.

Santana abandoned the pancakes to take the box. Christ it was heavy. It was so deceptive, Santana had been thinking it was just a damn box. She opened it and her mouth fell open as she dragged the keyboard onto the bench.

"What the..."

"The larger one was a bit out of our league, I'm sorry darling, but the boy in the shop said this was perfect to start off on,"

Santana looked from the keyboard sitting on the bench to both Layla and Michael grinning at her.

"Mr and Mrs P, I don't know what to say,"

"Just mention us when you win your first Grammy?"

Santana smiled, she didn't dare burst into tears. They had just bought her a freaking keyboard, to practice her music on; they were like her parents investing their money in their own child. She hugged each of them. Not even ten minutes later, Brittany entered the kitchen, bed hair present and short skimpy pyjamas that made Santana look away or otherwise she was going to choke on her pancakes.

"Britts, have you ever heard of the term late riser?" Michael asked.

Brittany took a swig of milk from the bottle, "I've heard of sky riser?"

Layla pried the bottle from her hands, "What have I told you about this. Kick the habit!"

Brittany smirked and perched herself on the stool next to Santana. She looked at the keyboard, "About time they bought you one, they've been raving about your song writing capabilities ever since Mum heard you in the shower,"

Santana nearly fainted, _oh god Brittany please don't admit you were in the shower with me_.

"You belted out the best _solo_," she added smirking.

For the first time in all her life, Brittany had been able to strategically leave certain information out of their story.

Santana swelled.

That swelling evaporated as soon as Artie started ringing Brittany's mobile.

"San," she said, "I promised Artie I would take him shopping for new shoes, did you want to come with us?"

_EXCUSE. Think Santana_.

"She can't," Michael spoke up, "She's helping me clean the pool today,"

Brittany frowned, "But,"

"Britts its imperative that the pool remains clean!" Layla said, "Santana has offered her services,"

_God bless you both!  
><em>

"It's okay Britt Britt, you go take stubb... Artie, shopping I'll be on pool duty,"

Brittany looked at her, it was this look as if to say she wanted to stay here with Santana and her parents. Santana would have given up eating Layla's pancakes for life, if she had of been allowed to lean over and kiss her.

**. . .**

"Santana!" Michael laughed, "It's a pool vacuum, it won't eat you!"

"I don't care," she huffed, moving around the edges and staying clear of the damn machine sucking its way across the vinyl. She couldn't exactly tell him that the reason she had such a fear of the damn thing was because one night as she was skinny dipping with his supposedly innocent daughter the damn thing had latched onto her foot and wouldn't let go.

"Santana come here," Layla called.

Santana moved over the grass, out from the pool gates and towards the washing line. Mrs P had set the keyboard on a table with some refreshments. Michael joined them after he'd dismantled the cleaner from where it had wedged between the pool filter and the wall.

"San, play something for us,"

"Oh," she gulped, "I don't think I wan..."

"Please," she smiled.

They had gone out of their way and bought her first musical instrument. She couldn't exactly deny them; her own mother hadn't ever bought her anything to musically train her. All Santana had ever had was her voice. Santana pressed the keys lightly, finding the notes she wanted, and then she sung a bar of _Emotion_ by the Bee Gees. She loved anything that reminded her music could find your soul. Michael leant forward on the chair. Santana loved seeing people's reactions to her voice. Music was her creative outlet, it was the only real time that she put everything on the line and wasn't afraid to do so. Suddenly Layla joined her, she placed one hand on the keyboard and played a few notes, and then she joined harmonies with Santana. Suddenly Santana found where Brittany had got her talent from.

_Jesus the woman could sing. _

Santana spent her entire Saturday with Mr and Mrs P, they were quite possibly the most amazing people she had the privilege of knowing. She felt loved when she was with them. It didn't matter if she was confused over everything that was happening with their daughter. They paid as much attention to her, as they did to Britt. She knew what it was to be a family with them.

"Santana," Michael said from where he had switched on the hockey game.

Brittany had been gone all day; Santana assumed she and Artie were now at Breadsticks. Puck had called her fifteen times. She had ignored every call except the twelfth in which she picked up and recited, "_Santana is currently unavailable to subject her body to any physical demands. She is a woman of pride_,"  
>He'd scoffed and told her he just wanted to take her to a movie. Santana hadn't believed him.<p>

"Are you happy with Puck?"

Santana didn't have time to catch the plate of biscuits she was eating from; it toppled onto her lap and sent crumbs everywhere. _Shit the lounge, don't get crumbs on the lounge!  
><em>

"Um, he's…well he's..."

How did she describe Puck? To be honest he'd actually started doing things with her. He didn't pry off her clothes every other day. He actually asked Santana how her day was. Maybe he was growing up, was that even possible?

"Puck is; well Puck is a seventeen year old boy,"

Michael laughed, "Yes I know those,"

_Yes well that's where your daughter currently is, with one of those stupid seventeen year old boys. I don't care if his legs don't work… he could steam roll his wheelie a million miles an hour and kidnap Britt for eternity. God Santana what was in the biscuits?  
><em>

Santana slumped in the chair, "Puck's okay, Mr P," she murmured.

"But you'd much rather be with Brittany?"

Santana started choking.

Lord Tubbington sat on the arm rest beside her, just glaring at her as if her choking on life was disturbing his slumber. _Too bad if I need CPR Tubbs!_

"You mean spend time with Britts, because she's my best friend? Oh you know Mr P, I think we balance our boyfriends and best friend duties really well,"

Michael sighed exasperatingly, "Santana I didn't come down in the last shower, and neither did Layla,"

Santana had always been very good at hiding things from adults. Mainly because she'd modelled herself off her own parents and she didn't exactly want to share all her secrets with either of them.

"Mr P, I don't know what to say,"

"You don't have to say anything Santana," he smiled, "It's always been written on your face,"

She looked at him, as he stared back her, calmly. This was the first time that Santana had ever been treated like an adult. It made her respect Brittany's father even more than she already did.

"You look at Brittany the same way I look at her mother. That look Santana, that look is what makes it okay,"

Was this, what she thought it was? Was this a blessing in disguise? Someone telling her that it was okay to be what she thought it was. Had she indirectly come out to Brittany's father? How can that even happen if she wasn't even so sure herself? It wasn't as if one day she had woken up and decided she liked girls. She didn't walk down the hall at school and check all the other girls out, and feel obliged to make mental notes of how attractive they were. Even if she was dating Puck to somehow cover up whatever feelings for Brittany were there, she still liked him a little as well. Santana did think he was attractive, and she did like it when he would open doors for her, or pay for stuff (usually that money was stolen from his dads wallet). But Brittany was just Brittany. She knew her inside and out, she knew everything there was about her. All the small things that made Brittany who she was, had somehow made Santana fall in love with her. Maybe this wasn't such a huge thing. Maybe Santana could just love her best friend. She wondered if maybe Brittany could just love her back and they could just love each other. Somehow that didn't seem as simple as how Michael had put it.

Later that night, Santana had called her mother, and told her that she was staying at the Pierce's again. Her mother had asked her why she had called when she knew she would be staying there anyway. Santana could hear some guy in the background and she rolled her eyes.

"_Night Mum,"_ she had said and hung up.

Lord Tubbington was such a fat cat. Legit. Santana wondered what the hell Brittany actually fed him. Surely she needed to put him on some sort of diet if he was going to continue starring in her _Fondue For Two_ program. Santana lay stretched on Brittany's bed, laptop open, Tubbs purring at her side, he did feel warm though, perhaps his fat could stay.

Santana scrolled through iTunes, picking and choosing what songs she wanted to add to her playlist. Suddenly the small icon for Skype lit up and it shot through from the corner of the screen.

'A_ccept invitation for web chat with starshine_3_'

Santana smirked and clicked yes, and suddenly Rachel was on the screen.

"You need something else than star shine," she said.

Rachel shrugged, "But that's what my fans know me as"

"Rachel" Santana groaned, "It sounds like a porn star name,"

Rachel gasped horrified, and it made Santana laugh, she was becoming accustomed to all the little mechanics that made up her personality.

Rachel suddenly developed a very serious face, "Santana you need to settle a debate,"

Santana pushed Tubbs from where he had begun clawing her bare thigh, "Stop," she muttered.

"Rachel I don't want to know about whether you want to lose your virginity to Finn,"

"It's not that,"

Santana's eyes shot straight back to the screen, as Quinn's voice and body entered.

_What the actual fuck?_

"What the hell?" she asked.

"I could say the same thing", Quinn responded. "Why do you have Rachel Berry on Skype?""

"Why are you at Rachel Berry's house?" Santana shot back.

"Why should we all agree that Rachel Berry gets every solo?"

"Be quiet!" Quinn snapped at her and Rachel sunk back in the chair.

Santana pressed her nose to the screen, "Don't yell at her Q, you're in her house!"

Rachel beamed for a moment.

Quinn looked incredulous, "I can't even begin to explain how…"

"We're doing a glee club song together," Rachel said cutting her off completely, Santana noticed a change in Quinn then. She didn't attempt to overstep Rachel, she actually let her speak.

"Santana I broke up with Finn,"

Santana raised her eyebrows, "Finally,"

Quinn groaned, "How are you two friends and I don't know about it!"

"How are you two doing a song and I don't know about it!" Santana muttered annoyed.

"Q… I mean Quinn," Rachel faltered, "You're hogging the screen, stop hogging the screen,"

"Rachel, you're hogging the screen!"

"It's my screen,"

"Santana's my friend,"

"She's my friend too,"

There was a slight squirm and then the screen fell forward as did Quinn and Rachel. Santana watched in amusement as they struggled to untangle each other's limbs.

Quinn reached the screen first. _Obviously. Always the dominant one_.

"Santana Rachel wants to sing unpretty/ pretty in glee club and I want to know…"

"Should we sing it together?"

Santana wasn't so sure why Rachel wanted to sing with Quinn so badly, she'd always rambled about how pretty Quinn was, but honestly the girl bullied her so badly sometimes it was any wonder she even wanted to breathe the same air. _Hypocrite_ Santana thought to herself, _You bullied her as well_.

"I think you should sing it together, your voices match,"

Quinn groaned, "Why do I get into these situations!" and she disappeared.

Suddenly Rachel was the only thing Santana could see, "San," she said smiling, "Thank you for your input, I really want to sing with Quinn, because she, well anyway I'll see you tomorrow?"

Santana frowned, but the front door slamming told her Britt was home, "Yeah Rach she said, see you tomorrow,"

She saw Rachel's face leave the conversation and she shut the laptop.

"Christ!" she said out loud and Tubbs jumped, meowing at her in annoyance, "Rachel likes Quinn! She was only with Finn so she didn't have to watch Q be with him!"

Santana nearly fainted. Before she could even process how she was going to attack Rachel over this, Brittany had stormed through her bedroom door in tears.

"San," she said.

At the sight of her tears, Santana immediately went into protective mode. Rage surged through her body for the person who had caused these tears, and then all at same time she wanted to take them from Brittany.

"Brittsticks?" she said as she fell into her arms.

"I made a mistake," she sobbed, as Santana cradled her.

"Britt talk to me, stop crying," Santana instructed calmly.

Brittany slowed herself so she could speak properly, "Please don't hate me,"

"Never,"

"I slept with Artie,"


	18. Chapter 17

Hi little readers,

So where's Brittany's point of view?

I was trying so hard to avoid that, because otherwise it would just turn into this great big job, and this fan fiction business was only meant to be a suggestion from my agent for writer's block (well that turned out well hey).

Okay for the one person who asked… This is for you! You know who you are :) I'm only going to give bits on Britt here and there, because you'll see more of her when, well…. when you see her ;)

But for now, have these couple of paragraphs to go by.

Court

P.S. I completely changed the prologue. I didn't like the first one!

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 17<strong>

_If you could remember, you'd ask me to rescue you. Well I'm going to rescue you anyway._

* * *

><p><strong><em>NOW<em>**

_The sky leant down to kiss her, as she lay awaking missing you. All the things that once were, now suddenly aren't, and you're left feeling like the world has misplaced you. If you could be anyone in the world who would you choose to be? Why would you choose to be them? If everything you've ever strived to be wasn't enough, would you run or would you wait and let the sky tell your story?_

Brittany awoke in sweats, kicking off the blankets and fumbling with the night stand. Her breathing was shallow. It had been shallow since the day she had been discharged from the hospital. It was like her breath had been taken. She wanted to know where her breath had gone. She adjusted her eyes to the now dimly lit room, as she tentatively moved the blankets off her sweat dripping body. Nothing felt right, sometimes she looked at her legs and they weren't hers. Like they belonged to someone else, like she wasn't who she thought she was. But that was her condition wasn't it? She was trying to figure out who she was?

She looked briefly to the clipboard Zoe had given her all those weeks ago. At the top read her name _Brittany S. Pierce_ and underneath were lines. Lines that she was meant to write what she remembers. She had this so far.

My name is Brittany S Pierce

I am twenty five years old

I was hit by a car, I was administered into intensive care for five weeks

I'm lucky to be alive

I grew up in Ohio

I moved to New york to pursue dance, it didn't work out

Zoe, my cousin helped to save me

I'm back where I am supposed to be

My parents are dead

Every day Zoe would come into this room, check over the list and smile, as though Brittany was remembering everything in the way she was supposed to. She didn't want to remember like this. She didn't want to be confined to a household and told to write down anything that came into her mind. Her mind was a mess. She was a mess. She ached and cried herself to sleep each night because she was scared. Her parents were dead. They had died when she was eighteen. She doesn't remember. She doesn't remember almost all of her schooling. She only remembers what her body tells her to do. _Eat, think, write, move, stretch, speak_. She was like a robot, a robot that didn't know what to believe. Was this her life? Had she really failed at a chance for dancing as career? Did she think she was really that good of a dancer to even pursue that? Where were her friends, where was anyone?

It was such a strange feeling to lose yourself. She was like this empty photograph. All the frames were there, they were there and they were holding her up. But the picture was distorted, it was so blurry and Brittany's eyes wouldn't adjust or focus. She had this hole in her heart, this hole in her heart that not something, but _someone_ was supposed to fill. Even if her brain couldn't remember, her heart ached at that missing feeling. That feeling of that person's arms around her, that feeling of that person's breath on her neck, that feeling of that person's touch. Where were they? She needed them; she needed them to come save her.

* * *

><p><strong>. . .<strong>

Santana's foot shattered on the brake pedal, as her vehicle screeched to a holt at the traffic lights. She didn't know why she and Brittany had chosen to keep the Lexus, mainly because New York was a system of transport. The subway and cabs were really the only things that were bearable. Only now, she was so thankful they did keep it. She'd taken the keys in the earlier hours of the morning, and driven out onto freeway 54. She'd sped across the tar and taken the ramp into Connecticut. Flying through the streets, she had ignored the beeping horns from other vehicles wondering what in the hell she was doing. Recklessness was blinking on her windshield, as though warning her that this behaviour wasn't going to clear her mind.

The light was taking forever. She had half a mind just to speed through it. Maybe this was life bargaining with her; maybe it was trying to soak the light from her eyes, just to spare her the pain of slipping into infinite darkness. Santana had never known the definition of soul mate until Brittany had held her hand for the first time. The first Brittany had _properly_ held her hand. She had entwined their fingers, looked down at them and said that they fit. Hands mean so much more than any other physical touch, because you do so much with them. Your hands help you do the most basic things in life, as well as the most intimate. So when you choose to hold someone else's hand, you're giving them reason to hold part of your existence. Santana would do anything right now to hold Brittany's hand.

Santana peeled around the bend and pushed the Lexus through a quieter street, watching the houses lined up together and standing in unison. Over the past week she had tried to remember all the things to be thankful for. Even if her life right now seemed like something that she wanted to hate, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had no right to do that. Someone had once told her that she needed to be grateful for what she had, because someone in this world, someone out there, was probably praying for it. She pulled into a service station on the corner of Brighton Street. She'd been driving for most of the morning; she didn't even know where she was going. She just wanted that feeling of going nowhere at all, because maybe she wouldn't need to think about the reality that awaited her at home; the reality that her finance hadn't retained her memory in four months. Santana finished filling up her tank and made her way to the pay clerk inside the building. As she neared the counter, she could hear the sounds of someone crying. She awkwardly stretched her neck, to see the service station attendant huddled at the bottom of the counter, hugging her knees and weeping.

"Excuse me," Santana said and she jumped, startled.

"Are you okay?" she asked frowning.

The girl looked at her, before hurriedly wiping her eyes and pulling herself to her feet, "I'm sorry," she said, "Was it just the fuel?"

Santana traced the girls outline, small, Caucasian, long brunette hair, she reminded her of a crying Rachel every time her and Quinn had fought in high school.

Santana handed over her credit card and as the girl took it; her small blue eyes grew wide, "Oh gosh," she muttered, "You're Santana Lopez,"

It was always a different reaction when a fan or stranger recognised her. It was always a case that she was still so surprised someone in the world knew who she was, and she didn't know who they were.

"I love your music," she said.

Santana looked at her, "If you love it, maybe it will help you? I wrote it because it helped me,"

The girl stared at her a moment, before her shoulders slumped, "My boyfriend broke up with me, but he didn't want to, his parents are moving across the country, and I want to go get him and bring him back, but I don't know how to,"

Santana stilled.

"Well if you love him, you shouldn't worry about what anyone else thinks or says, you should go get him,"

The girl seemed to brighten a little, "I should go get him shouldn't I; maybe he just needs me to come rescue him,"

"Go rescue your boy," Santana smiled taking her card.

The girl smiled at her, "Thank you," she murmured.

Santana gave a small wink before exiting the store. As she re-entered her vehicle she sat in the front seat and stared at herself in the review mirror. Taking her phone, she clicked to the website that had been saved in her favourites for weeks. Santana stared at it. It had taken a complete stranger for her to click the link and book an airfare ticket to Ohio.

"I'm coming Brittsticks," she said softly, "I'll be there soon,"

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, It's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, just past the middle_

"I can't believe she slept with him," Santana said, as Puck wrote down his fifth strike for the night. Santana also couldn't believe he had taken her bowling. This was the first time he'd actually taken her out properly.

"San," he said, "Brittany and Artie are going out, as in boyfriend and girlfriend, I think it was only fitting,"

She rolled her eyes.

"Besides I took yours and we're not even anything, a mutual open relationship,"

Santana rolled her eyes again.

"Why can't you ever just agree with what I'm saying, Brittany should have slept with someone she loved,"

"I can't agree with you, because you always contradict yourself. You don't love me, and you slept with me. You don't know if Brittany doesn't love Artie, for all you know she could,"

Santana stilled, she was trying to grapple with what he had said about her not loving him, and then also trying to deal with whether Brittany loved Artie. _Christ what if she did actually love Artie._

Was she just scared that night she had cried herself to sleep in Santana's lap, just scared because sex is an act that should make you an adult. Was Brittany ready to be an adult?

Wait that would mean Santana was well and truly an adult. She didn't really feel like one sometimes.

Puck picked up the bowling ball and flexed slightly, before throwing it down the alley.

Strike number six.

"You know," he said, "You need to hide your jealousy more San, I mean sure rant about Artz with me if you want, I don't care, but in Glee Club every time you insult him, I can see it hurts Britt,"

Santana and Puck had never had a real conversation up until now. It was strange to her. He was making comments on things she already knew.

"And why would you think I'm jealous?"

"You want Artie,"

Santana sighed, and this is what separated his ideas from Rachel's. Puck still hadn't cottoned on. Santana however, was actually very thankful for this.

"Puck I really…"

"Can we just have fun? You and me? I'm trying to be a man Santana. I'm trying to make you a little bit happier than what you've been lately. _I'm trying_"

Santana looked at him, he wasn't so bad.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He picked up the bowling ball and held it out to her, "Santana I know that this won't last. I know that this hasn't ever really been anything. But at the very least I've finally worked out that you are my friend. And when my friends need cheering up, I'm always going to make it my priority,"

And just like that, Noah Puckerman, became a man.

**. . .**

"Britts," Santana said reaching her at the lockers, "I was thinking maybe tonight we could watch a new show? I know you love Sweet Valley, but I don't think I can handle any more repeats…"

Santana stopped when she realised Brittany was crying.

"Britts sticks," she said urgently, "Britt what's wrong,"

Brittany pulled her head up from where she was leaning against her opened locker, she looked at Santana, her eyes puffy, her lips still quivering.

"Artie called me stupid,"

Santana bit down on her tongue sharply, to prevent a trail of foul ass names tumbling from her mouth.

"Then we got into a really big fight, and I'm really sad about it. I'm like a sad, sad panda San,"

Santana collected in her arms, rubbing circles on Brittany's back, "its okay," she whispered, "Maybe he was just upset about something,"

_Christ Santana are you actually trying to defend him? Don't do that; tell her how you really feel. That Artie would never be able to treat you the way I would. I would never say that to you._

"Maybe," Brittany replied, "But I just want to be happy again, today has sucked,"

Santana took in a deep breath, "Come with me?" she asked, "and I'll make you feel better?"

Brittany nodded and allowed Santana to lead her down the hall. She snuck into the Glee Club choir room. The best thing about lunch time was that Ohio was usually so sunny; everyone in Mckinley High just wanted to be outside on the field. The football players would always put on some sort of mid lunch show and get everyone riled up for the games on the weekend. Despite the fact they would never win anyway.

Santana made Brittany sit on one of the seats, "I think I've found a song that goes one step further in expressing my feelings for you," she paused and looked at her feet, "My private feelings,"

Santana left her and walked back towards the piano,

"What about him?" Brittany asked nodding at Brad, their sometimes infill piano trainer.

"He's just furniture," Santana dismissed, "No offense," she added.

She looked at Brittany and smiled, "hit it,"

Santana's favourite line to sing in the whole song was _'and I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before,'_

Because it was the complete the truth. She'd never loved Brittany like this before, she'd loved her, but not like _this_. She'd never loved anyone else like _this_ before. She was scared and confused about who she was and what she wanted. But she wasn't confused of how she felt for Britt. She loved her. It was as simple as that.

Brittany was crying all over again when the song had finished, mainly because Santana's voice was so intricately beautiful she felt every word. She jumped up from the chair and made her way over to her.

"You fix me Santana," she said, and she pulled her towards her.

Santana sunk into her, taking in everything about her. Even if all Brittany could offer her were hugs for the rest of her life, Santana would take that. Being in Brittany's arms was the most comfortable thing in the world.

"Take me home?" she asked and Santana smiled, home was wherever Britt was.

Santana squealed as Layla threw a handful of flour in her face, she saw white powder for three minutes, before Brittany could wipe it from her eyes. In retaliation Britt hurled the chocolate chips back at her mother.

"Never fear, Britts is here!" and Santana pissed herself laughing.

They had come home with Layla begging them to help her bake muffins for the charity event she was helping to organise. They'd got half way before an all-out food fight had erupted in the kitchen. There was chocolate icing plastered on the tiles, chocolate chips scattered like rocks on the floor and flour painted everything like snow. Brittany had dipped her fingers in the chocolate and painted army lines across her face. She looked so freaking adorable.

Brittany squealed as Layla hurled more flour at them, she was using the breadboard as a shield.

The front door was opened and closed and suddenly Michael was asking where everyone was.

"Battle field in the kitchen," Layla yelled, "backup required!

As soon as Michael entered the kitchen, the food substance went from basic muffin ingredients, to fruit; and yoghurt. Santana never laughed so hard in her life. When a truce was called, the four of them lay in a heap in the middle of the kitchen. Santana and Brittany curled into Mr and Mrs P.

"Well that was productive," Layla smirked, wiping banana skin from Brittany's hair.

Santana laughed, "I think we should just use all this mashed up food for the ingredients for your event,"

"Oh yes," Michael agreed, "We'll call it Santana's Scrumptious Servings,"

Layla rolled her eyes, "You're both as bad as each other,"

As Michael winked at her, Santana swelled, this was the first time that she looked at him and believed he was the one person that she could call Dad.

"I suppose we should tell them where this charity event is?"

Brittany looked at her parents, "What are you talking about?"

"Well sweetheart, we have to go out of town, Chicago to be more specific," Layla responded, shifting slightly as the chocolate icing began to drip from the bench.

"What?" Brittany and Santana said together.

"A nice intimate light plane ride, four nights in a five star hotel courtesy of your father, and then a function to help the children's hospital,"

Santana seemed a little crest fallen.

Michael laughed, "Relax sweetheart, it's not long! We'll be back in a few days!"

Santana nodded, "Can we clean the pool again?"

He laughed and rustled her hair, "Every weekend,"

"However," Layla interjected putting on her best serious tone, "This means you need to take full responsibility for the house. Home alone does not mean 'Macaulay Culkin' home alone. Our home alone means you wash up after yourselves!"

"Exactly," Michael agreed, "both of you being alone means you need to behave yourselves,"

When he looked at Santana and gave the second wink, she knew then, that Michael was also her friend.


	19. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

_I want everything about you, home is where ever you are_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Santana stood at the check in point and handed her bags to the clerk. She smiled at her, "Enjoy your flight Miss Lopez,"

Santana was trying to ignore the very real possibility that she might literally vomit, but she smiled back all the same. At the same time a young girl asked for her autograph, she looped her name with ink across the girl's notepad.

Before she had the chance to move to the waiting lounge her cell sounded in her pocket. She dug into her jeans and retrieved it. Rachel's face was on the screen. Taking a deep breath Santana answered with "Hey baby girl,"

"Don't you baby girl me," she yelled, "I don't know what's worse Santana the fact you kept what you were doing from me, or the fact I had to find out by threatening to throw Kurt's Gucci purse over the balcony,"

Santana tried not to smile, "Rachel," she said "I knew what you would say,"

"Exactly," she replied, "I'm furious with you Santana, I want you to come home immediately,"

"I am going home," she replied.

Rachel groaned, "Not that home, San please what happened to logical thinking?"

"Clearly that went out the window,"

Santana smirked at Quinn's voice in the background.

"Just let me do this,"

"And what are you going to do to find her Santana? What are you going to say when you see her? How are you going to show her all the things you've written down?"

Rachel had always been so good at the 21 questions a minute game. She just lined up all the most rational questions and threw them at you, like you were playing with one of those tennis ball dispensers and had accidently hit full speed.

"I don't know," Santana replied, "I don't know anything Rachel, other than the fact that Brittany is mine. Brittany is mine, and I need to prove it to her,"

There was a silence before Rachel sighed into the phone, "Call us when your flight lands okay,"

Santana bit her lip, "Starch can you not be mad at me,"

"No, I'm staying mad at you. But I support you,"

Santana half smiled, she could imagine Rachel standing in her living room right now, Quinn was more than likely not even a foot away from her, fiddling with a camera, and as Rachel was saying all this to Santana, she wouldn't have taken her eyes off her.

"San," Rachel said.

"Mmmmm?" she responded, noticing that the boarding gates had just been opened.

"I would have done the same,"

_Santana melted. _

When all you want is to start again, because you know it's the best thing for you, where's the one place you return to? Maybe we're all just chasing dreams and praying they'll one day turn into the reality we long for. Most days you have so many things you want to say, just let them slide from the end of your tongue, pass through your lips and settle in the air around you, but you can't say them, because you have no idea where to start. Santana was starting back at home. Lima, Ohio, an old North-western town just off Interstate 75. Santana had rented a car to drive from the airport; it was this banged up old convertible that had a Stevie Nicks cassette tape stuck on repeat. The song, conveniently enough was _Landslide_. After the eleventh time it played, Santana had switched it off. Too much, that was just too much for her to handle. It was so hot she could feel the rays sweeping over her skin, browning her like they used to back in high school. Lima hadn't changed. The dusty old roads, the long driveways in front of people's houses, even the old state library was still standing.

_Home_, Santana thought pulling left into her street.

After all this time she'd forgotten that home is where Brittany would always be.

"_Home is you, Santana_," she had whispered the night Santana had proposed, "_If ever you can't find me, I'll meet you at home_,"

Santana had always reasoned that the funniest thing about our human race and their ability of discovery is not the foundation of what could and possibly is out there, but the fear of what has already been found. We dream and we hope for something different in our life time, something that you never thought could ever happen to you and when it actually does, we want to feel more visceral, when in reality our instincts and tuition probably have never failed us.

Santana pulled the convertible to a stop outside the little blue house on the corner. After Santana's first year of college she had come home, because of a broken heart, to find her mother had bought a small little house not even a block away from McKinley High. Santana had spent the summer decorating her room and cursing that living here would have been so much more of a convenience to walk to school. She glared at it for a moment. The only change was that the gutters had been painted red. Her mother never failed to surprise her in absolutely anything she did. But looking at this house reminded Santana of the Spanish dresses she used to be dressed in when she was five. She found herself shaking her head.

Stalking up the drive way, she realised that maybe the tight fitted black dress and stilettos wasn't the best outfit to say _hi mum, haven't seen you in five years but I'm staying with you okay. _

Reaching her hand to the door, Santana paused a while, she saw that her whole hand was shaking.

"Christ Santana," she muttered, "Pull it together,"

She knocked three times, and then wanted to run back to the car.

The creak of a door, a small gasp and then a "Santana?" and suddenly her mother was standing before her.

Santana felt like she was looking into a mirror.

"Hi Mum," she said.

Santana loved her mother, nothing would ever change that. But when her parents divorced it was almost like her mother had divorced her own happiness. Everything after that became about her, Santana was left to fend for herself. That wasn't what a mother was supposed to be. A mother was supposed to be like Layla Pierce.

Her mother allowed her in and hovered about her for a moment, wondering if she was supposed to hug her. Santana answered her with an embrace.

"San, I haven't seen Britt,"

Santana felt a small tick in her heart that her mother knew that's why she was here. Then she felt bad about it, because it had taken all of this to get her back home again.

"I'm tired mum," she said softly, "I just want to go to sleep,"

She raised her eyebrows up the stairs, "Your room was never changed,"

Santana frowned and her mother shrugged, "I always thought maybe you'd come home,"

Santana entered her bedroom after standing on the other side of the door for at least ten minutes. She didn't want to get her suitcase out of the damn trunk either; she just wanted to close her eyes and sleep. Breathing deeply she pushed open the door and immediately wished she hadn't. Everything about her past rushed at her. Photos jumped from the walls, the colours of her room screamed all the feelings she had actually been willing to share and then there was that bed. That bed; she had laughed with Brittany on, cried with Brittany on, made love to her on.

Santana sunk onto the chair at her desk. Out of everything in this damn room, all the photos, all the old textbooks from school, even the ballerina shoes hanging on the wall, nothing had the greatest effect on her, than what was sitting in front of her on the desk. Sitting there, blinking up at her was her grandmother's wedding ring; her mother had left a note beside it.

'_You'll find her because she'll find you.'_

Santana picked it up, pressed it to her lips and then burst into tears.

**. . .**

"Baby?"

"Mmmm" Quinn looked up from where she had been staring intently at the hands of a woman she had shot earlier today for an advertorial Colgate needed. They were man hands, she was sure of it.

"You love me don't you?"

Quinn snorted, "Can I at least just finish this batch before you take my clothes off?"

Rachel sighed a little more dramatically then what was needed, causing Quinn to look up immediately.

"Baby what's wrong?"

"You'd support me through anything wouldn't you?"

Quinn removed her glasses, and stood from the computer chair, making her way to where Rachel was leaning on the doorframe to the study. She pulled Rachel towards her, "I moved from L.A to be with you and support you remember?"

"What if I wanted to do something different?"

Quinn raised her eyebrows, "Rachel, I really can't take much more of our experimentation, my body isn't as flexible as it was three years ago,"

Rachel groaned, "Q, I am not always talking about sex you know!"

Quinn bit her lip, god she was amazing when she was angry.

"I want to move _New York City in the Snow_ to Ohio, Lima to be more specific,"

Quinn's jaw fell flat line open, causing Rachel to pull away, "I knew you would have that reaction,"

"Rachel," she said finding her voice, "_New York City in the Snow_, means just that, New York city?"

"Yes, but I could take it to a week only in Ohio, give them something from the big city?"

Quinn folded her arms, "Or you could just be using it as an excuse to see Brittany and pull her down memory lane,"

Rachel shot daggers, "Do you not miss her? Do you not miss every Wednesday night drinks with Santana and Brittany, our best friends who we're supposed to be maids of honour too?"

Quinn immediately hated herself.

"Baby, of course I do,"

"Well you don't act like it,"

"Because I'm scared Rachel, I'm scared she'll never remember, and I don't think Santana could ever come back from that,"

"You don't know that, "Rachel whispered biting her lip, in the way that always told anyone she was doubtful.

"No I do know that, because Santana's world would end without Brittany, just like mine would end without you,"

She pulled Rachel back into her arms again, kissing her lips, and pressing their foreheads together, "Maybe we can just change the name to _New York City in the Sun_?"

Rachel breamed, "Really?"

"I go wherever you do," she whispered, and immediately Rachel ripped her shirt off.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, It's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, towards the end_

_Hello Kitty_.

Mc Stubbles had bought Brittany a hello kitty watch and instantly everything about being stupid had gone out the window. Santana had literally punched Puck in the stomach; thank god he just assumed she was trying to be kinky.

"I can't believe Nationals is in New York!" Mercedes smiled, "All those lights, I can't wait,"

Santana could wait. She was desperate for New York, but that was only a few months away, which meant graduation was only a few months away, which meant she needed to figure out whether she had the guts to tell her mother and everyone else she wanted to apply for Julliard.

"Yes well those lights are going to burn us people," Rachel said, "We're going to be little Bambi's running out and freezing, if we don't put all our effort into practice… now think, what would you look like as road kill?"

Quinn shot her a look, "Not everyone's priority is show choir Rachel,"

"Yes but college is Q, and if you want to go to UCLA I think you should start focusing,"

Santana's head whipped around to Quinn who slumped in her chair slightly, avoiding eye contact. They'd spoken about college together? Okay maybe Rachel had quite simply forced it out of Quinn, but since when were they having these conversations? And since when was Quinn listening to Rachel and allowing her to call her Q as though she had done so all along? The only thing Santana was actually in tune with was how damn well their voices sounded together.

She could see Brittany at the front of the room, drawing circles on Artie's palms; she wanted to physically remove his hands so Brittany couldn't do that anymore.

"Rachel and I should still sing a solo," Finn said shrugging, "That's how it was in the beginning,"

Santana rolled her eyes, huckleberry Finn had been trying to put the Berry back in his name since they'd split up. Santana assumed either Rachel really did have feelings for Quinn or she was so focused on her future that nothing else even remotely mattered. Besides as long as Santana was still allowed over for Tuesday night karaoke with Rachel and her two Dads, she was all goods.

Santana loved when Mr Schuester got called out of the classroom, mostly because everyone just had all these random opinions and facts to share that no one would shut up. Then throw in Puck and the guitar and usually everyone would just belt out a few tunes before the lesson started. By the time Mr Schuester returned, they were all so warmed up and buzzing he was grinning from ear to ear before he'd even told them what the lesson was going to be about.

Only this time when he entered the classroom he looked like he'd seen a ghost. He looked like someone had just gone and told him he was forbidden to wear vests.

"Brittany," he said smiling gently, "Ms Pillsbury and I need to see you in her office,"

Brittany stood up immediately.

_Christ _Santana thought, she can't tell facial expressions, she just thinks he wants to talk, something was wrong, something was really wrong.

"Brittany," Mr Schuester smiled gently, "Do you want to bring someone with you? I think you'll need someone with you,"

Brittany straight away turned and looked at Santana; she held her pinkie in the air.

_Santana melted. _

Ms Pillsbury's office smelt like pine in the spring. Some students believed it was because she was obsessed with nature, but Santana knew she spent every waking hour cleaning anything she could get her hands on.

"Brittany," she said, once they were settled in the chairs, "Brittany I need you to listen to me very carefully, because there is no other easier way I can say this,"

Santana mirrored Brittany's confused face, _were they being kicked out of Glee Club?_

"Brittany, this morning, a light air craft attempted take off from Chicago airport, but there was an accident. A terrible, terrible accident…"

Santana froze, she dug her nails into the chair beneath her. _Oh god; please, no, no, no, no_

"Brittany your parents were involved in that accident. Sweetheart I'm sorry but your parents were killed this morning,"

She was right, there was no other easy way to say that. Nothing will ever stop the slap of shock if you ever hear those words. They say people react to things differently. They say everyone will have their own way of dealing with unwanted news.

Santana didn't have time to deal with it. She had to move passed that so she could focus on Brittany.

Brittany did all but one thing. She folded into Santana, she folded into Santana like a piece of paper does when you put it away in an envelope, you put it away and you send it somewhere. Brittany had just been sent to being parent-less.

**. . .**

What amount of time measures grief? How long do you allow yourself before you stop seeing them in everything; when you stop being able to smell them every time you enter the house? When death presents itself to you, you can feel it wherever you go. It's in the walls, it's in the air, it engulfs you, it engulfs you with all these feelings that you've never felt before. Santana was trying to deal with the loss of Layla and Michael in the best way she knew how. She cried when she was alone, or she went to Rachel's house to cry, she couldn't cry in front of Britt, she already had enough tears herself. The week passed and everyone was really respectful. Everyone tried to treat Brittany normally, but every so often you'd find the occasional glance from Quinn saying _'tell me, and I'll hug you'._ Or the times when Puck would walk up to Britt and offer to carry her books. Finn and Sam walked her to class; Kurt fixed her makeup when she had been crying. Rachel did her homework, and not just her English homework like usual, Rachel did _all _of her homework. Mercedes picked Brittany and Santana up before school because she lived on the way. Tina bought Britt some new leg warmers and Mike burned her a new hip hop CD. This is what your friends did.

_These were their friends. _

The one person who should have been the most supportive, had said these words, "_things like this happen Brittany_," Santana wanted to literally smack Artie into a pulp, and he'd called Brittany stupid?

The church was decorated in white tulips, because they had been Layla's favourite flowers. There were so many people that had come. So many people wanted to wish their condolences that it was nearly all too much. Santana watched Kirsten Pierce climb the altar to stand at the microphone. Santana had never met her before, but she knew this was Michael's sister. Kirsten unfolded the piece of paper and began to read.

_"I miss my brother. Every night at 10 or so, he used to call me on the phone, and when I asked him why, he'd tell me that he just wanted to say goodnight to his baby sister. He would tell me that love was the greatest gift we all had; he would chuckle and say that Layla was his gift. I miss my brother. The way he laughed, how he always looked after me, the way he stared at his little girl with so much adoration it seemed to burst from him," _

Santana looked at Brittany, sitting in the front row with a cluster of family members. She wanted to be there beside her, holding her. She _should _be there beside her, that's where Santana belonged.

"_I miss how my brother would always convince me to play poker, even if we were just playing with crisps. I miss the smell of Layla's cooking, I miss her hugging me and saying see you next week. When you love someone like I love them, they become a part of you; it's like you're attached by this invisible tether and no matter how far away you are, you can always feel them. And now every time I reach for that tether I know there's no one on the other end and I feel like I'm falling into nothingness. Then I remember Michael and Layla. I remember a life led with no enemies, no resentments, no regrets, a life that lead to the birth of a beautiful baby girl, who was and will remain their absolute pride and joy. And suddenly I'm inspired to get up out of bed and go on. I miss my brother and his wife so much it feels like a piece of me has been ripped off. Just one more conversation I want to have with them. Ten more seconds— is that too much to ask? For ten more seconds to tell them that I love them; tell them that Brittany will be okay? But I can't and I won't and the only thing keeping me from being swallowed whole by sadness is that Michael and Layla would kill me if I did. They would want us to stand up tall and continue on with our lives in the best way we know how. Loving each other and everything we do. So for now I'm just going to miss them. I love you Layla. I love you Michael. Rest in peace"._

Santana couldn't help the tears pouring from her face, she didn't take her eyes off Brittany, god she was being so strong. In a handful of moments, she felt one arm slip around her shoulder and then another rest warmly on her hand. She realised then, that Rachel and Quinn had moulded them together. They were holding her there, between them, in this place of comfort. In that moment, Santana realised that wherever her life took her, she would never find friends quite like the ones from home.

The wake was held at Brittany's aunt and uncles house. There house was so big, she was surprised she didn't get lost going to the bathroom. Everyone was giving off all these memories of Michael and Layla, but Santana couldn't join in. She didn't want to. The Michael and Layla that all these strangers spoke about were different to the ones that had been hers. Michael was the one who accepted her for who she was, Layla was her source of comfort in moments she couldn't find it. What was she supposed to do without them? How was she supposed to support Brittany through all of this? Santana excused herself from where she had been sitting by the pool with Puck and Mercedes, she needed air; she just needed air. She walked through the house, and stepped out onto the front porch, soaking in the afternoon sunshine.

She saw her then, sitting just across the road in the small park on the corner, rocking back and forth on one of the swings. Santana made her way towards to Brittany.

She was mute; she'd drifted off into another world during the funeral and hadn't returned.

"Brittsticks," Santana said softly, this was so hard, she didn't know what to do or say. She just wanted to literally suck all of Brittany's pain away and throw it somewhere she couldn't find it.

"I don't know what to feel anymore San," she whispered.

"Just keep feeling Britt, feeling is being alive,"

Brittany let out a small cry, clutching her stomach as the swing moved with her shifting weight.

"I can't San," she sobbed, "I can't- do-this, it hurts"

Santana was in front of her immediately. Just one step and she was kneeling in front of her best friend.

"Britt," she said firmly, "Britt you need to be strong,"

Brittany tried to calm her breathing, but she was a mess, her face was stained with angry tears, as her lips quivered in this unrelenting grief.

"They're gone San, they're gone, what am I going to do. God what am I going to do?"

Santana took Brittany's face in her hands, steadily her and locking their eyes, "You're going to lean on me, you're going to lean on me until you can stand again,"

Brittany gave a small hiccup, not taking her eyes away from Santana's, "San," she whispered.

"No," Santana replied, "You are strong, you're going to be okay, and…" Santana tried to resist saying it, for god's sake it was her parents funeral, Santana had lost Layla and Michael as well, but she couldn't help it, "and you're are the most beautiful thing in the world,"

Brittany abandoned the swing and slid over Santana, into her lap. Nose to nose, eyes locked on eyes, skin to skin, lips barely apart.

"I want you," she replied quietly, "You're it Santana,"

All the tears Santana had been storing away over the last week, storing away to remain strong for Britt, had finally reached the end of their mercy. They trickled down her face, like the way rain does when you stand out in a storm for hours.

"Brittsticks," she murmured, "you're grieving, you're upset, don't do this when you're upset,"

"I'm always upset," she cried, "I'm always upset because I don't want to be with Artie, I want to be with you. My parents are d…gone," she couldn't say that word, she couldn't say that word because it was too hard say it out loud, "I need you,"

Santana cradled her, taking in her scent in the same way she always had, she took all of Brittany in and she held her there. Held her, because that's where she belonged.

"Kiss me," Santana barely even murmured.

Only Brittany heard her, Brittany finally heard her.

Santana felt Brittany's lips take over her mouth. There were so many tears neither of them could even focus properly. But it didn't matter; it didn't matter because Brittany was kissing her.

They pulled away after a moment and Santana looked at her, "give me the pain baby," she murmured, "give me all the pain, I'll take it for you,"

Brittany buried her face into Santana's neck, "I love you Santana," she whispered, "I love you more than anything else in this world,"

**. . .**

Santana couldn't comprehend the aftermath left from when your parents die, it's like someone's handed you a blank page and told you that you had to try and write your own rules. Where do you go when you've lived by rules all your life? Brittany was eighteen, she didn't need foster care, she was allowed to make decisions for herself.

"There's my cousin Zoe," she said as they sat placing her clothes into a cardboard box, "But she's a little older than me, and she lives on the edge of Ohio, getting to school would be a pain in the ass,"

Santana's phone vibrated before she could respond and as she glanced down at the text message, she saw the one thing that she respected about her mother. An ability to reach out.

'_Help move Brittany's things into our apartment. She will live with us,'_

Santana looked up, Brittany's skin was still golden from summer, her hair was curled fell over her shoulders, and her eyes, god Santana could see her eyes even if she wasn't looking at her.

"Brittsticks," she said, moving towards her.

Brittany glanced at her.

"Would you want to live me?"

Brittany's eyes grew wide, "What?"

Santana shrugged, "Mum told me to help you move in,"

Santana wasn't given any reason to give a coherent response, because Brittany had shot to her, pinned her to the floor and was kissing her.

"Britt," she murmured, although why in the world she would want to stop Brittany from attacking her lips made absolutely no sense, "Britt, I have to talk to Puck,"

Brittany stopped kissing her, and shifted her weight from Santana's body, "I have to talk to Artie," she replied.

Santana was going to say something diplomatic, but Brittany left her breathless, and her head was so dizzy she couldn't see straight.

"Do we get to sleep in the same bed?"

Santana's body tingled, "Well we don't have a spare room,"

Brittany smiled slightly, "Good,"

Santana wanted to express how much they really needed to talk to these boys, because she really did not want cheating to come into this again, but Brittany's body pressed tightly against hers, and her tongue running across her lips meant her head just shot straight for the clouds and didn't come back down for another hour.


	20. Chapter 19

Little Readers!

Thank you for letting me know about things that confuse you, or things that you pick up on. It helps me grow and learn from my mistakes!

Okay so this chapter. There's a certain section, that well, I can't even put into words what it was like to write it, I've never actually written a 'scene' like this before. It was- interesting?

I know we want to see interaction with Britts and San in the 'NOW' but hold out guys! It's all about the suspense… I'm nicer than Ryan, Ian and Brad aren't I ? :P

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 19<strong>

_Just follow your feet, they'll lead you back to me_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

There are certain things that make you think of that one person's name even if it hasn't been spelt out to you. When Santana sees leg warmers she thinks Brittany. When she hears the sound of a cat, she thinks Brittany. When she sees the sun reflect off glass she thinks of how Brittany shines when she dances. Walking into breadsticks almost ruined her.

Almost. But didn't.

She sat down in the booth, removed her jacket and then stared at the person sitting opposite her.

"Santana Lopez," he smiled.

He was still short. Still had the Afro and was still Jewish.

"Jewfro" she murmured.

He seemed to let out this ridiculous laugh that reminded her so much of him in high school she wanted to pour the water over his head.

"God you're irritating" she said folding her arms across the table.

"Well why you agree to meet me?"

Santana glared at him, "Because you said you had information on where Britt was,"

This part was true. She had smacked into him whilst jogging and as he lay in a heap on the pavement Santana had laughed properly for the first time in months. She'd addressed him by his proper name but then he'd asked if she'd had another boob job and so Jewfro was brought back again.

"Oh yeah, I lied" he said "I just wanted a date with you,"

Santana literally threw the water in his face, "bitch" she said angrily, "cómo te atreves a perder mi tiempo! no me gusta!"

She got up to leave but someone called her name, "Santana? San?"

Before she could literally pick Jewfro up and throw him somewhere Tina was suddenly in front of her.

Santana instantly felt relief,

"My god San" she laughed embracing her, "Why didn't you tell me you were here?"

Santana had no words, Tina had grown up. This geeky Asian with blue bits in her hair had disappeared and now Santana was staring at this gorgeous curvy woman with hot shoes.

"Last minute," she smiled weakly.

Tina sighed pulling Santana across the room, towards the booths on the opposite side of the restaurant. She pushed her inside, asked the waiter for a basket of breadsticks and two scotches on ice.

"T, Santana said "It's not even mid-day,"

Tina shrugged "So what, I'm dating the owner,"

Santana eyes shot towards the ceiling. "You get free breadsticks?"

Tina laughed, before tying her hands together on top of the table, "You look great San" she said.

Santana sighed, "I don't feel it, I feel exhausted"

"Any word on Britt and the cousin?"

"That's why I'm here,"

Tina nodded, "Honest to god Santana, Mike and I were only talking about this the other day, it's so strange we haven't seen her, are you sure she's in Lima? What if her cousin lives in a different part of the state?"

Santana leant back into the booth, "My mother saw her a month or two back, in the supermarket, but even I don't know what to believe anymore,"

"Have you tried the dance studio?" she suggested "You know Britts, she follows her dance steps,"

Santana looked at her; Tina had just given her a place to start.

"How are you?" she asked, anything to change the subject, she hadn't seen T in years.

Tina smiled at her "Waiting for a wedding,"

Santana inhaled, _Christ_

"There'll be one," she said firmly, "Do you remember the glee club lesson when you two sung Landslide?"

_Landslide_ Santana thought _this was constantly being brought up_.

"I do remember,"

"A lot of us just chose not to say anything Santana, we just chose not to say something even if most of us already saw it,"

Santana tilted her head.

"It was always in your eyes Santana, the way you both looked at each other. If I have any hope of finding that look with someone, I'll be okay,"

She wanted to lean across the booth and hug her. Santana had been right all those years ago. She would never find friends than the ones right here. These were the people that knew her the most. These were the people who had watched her grow. Maybe she would be okay if she just had them. When she thought of this she suddenly felt sick. Santana was holding on because she had them. Brittany didn't have anyone. She had Zoe who was manipulating her, god she wanted to strangle her.

"Santana," Tina said suddenly, "Whatever your thinking stop because if you keep breaking the breadsticks we'll be eating bread twigs,"

** . . .**

_Lima Dance Studio (LDS)_ was only a block away from her old high school. When Santana pulled up out front, the convertible seemed to shudder and give out, she had this feeling the thing wouldn't last. She made her way through the glass doors and walked to the small reception. The girl behind the desk had the brightest red hair, Santana was nearly blinded.

"Oh my god," she said as she looked up, "Santana Lopez? Oh my god, please autograph this,"

Santana watched as she rummaged through the desk and pulled out Santana's latest album. She hadn't heard from Andrew in weeks, which was probably a good thing, he'd realized she needed space. When you're thrown into some sort of spotlight you learn to ignore all the things said about you. You appreciate the positive things, accept the negative things but generally it's so overwhelming you just want to stay in this bubble. Santana could get away with walking down the street in sun glasses and being left alone. She could go to cocktail bars and go shopping and only a handful of people would approach her if they were brave enough. She was always invited to parties and events, and in the past year or so Brittany's name had been added to the invitation list. Even so, she still marvelled when people asked her for her autograph and her photo.

She signed and smiled.

"What are you doing in Ohio?" the girl asked, as if Santana wasn't actually allowed to be here.

"Retracing my steps," she replied airily.

The girl frowned, "Well I suppose if you love dance, Ms Callahan is just taking a class but she'll be out in a minute,"

Santana nodded, making her way out into one of the hallways and taking a seat against the wall.

God it only felt like yesterday that she was here at every possible chance, sitting around watching Brittany dance for hours after school. They would come here and practice cheerio's routines with Quinn. Towards the end of senior year, Rachel even stopped in to watch, and Q actually let her. Santana found herself smirking at how they use to be. Two teenagers who didn't realise feelings until it literally had smacked them in the face. It took four years of college for that to happen. Four years separated, talking occasionally, a road trip in between where they got so drunk they slept together and then Rachel finally realized that she needed to go get her.

_Christ when did everything get so complicated?_

Where did those days go where she would sit in the studio and be surrounded by Brittany because the whole room was coated in mirrors? She could see Brittany from every angle. She couldn't take her eyes off her, even when she was meant to be studying for finals, even when she was meant to be writing original songs for Glee Club nationals, she could never ever stop staring at Brittany. The way she danced was like watching a star skim across the surface of a lake. She was elegant and tasteful but then at the same time she was sexy and could tap down a beat to some hip hop routine she would just make up. _Versatility_ was written on her degree from Julliard. Brittany could do anything.

"Santana is it?"

Santana looked up from where she had been staring intently had the small cigarette burn in the side of the chair.

"Ms Callahan," she smiled extending her hand.

The woman shook it, "No, no I remember you sweetheart, my god, look at how delicious you turned out,"

Santana flushed, in high school she had thought she was some product of the gods upstairs until she'd hit New York and was torn back down again to reality. So now whenever someone complimented her she was either embarrassed or humbled; she couldn't tell.

"Ms Callahan, I just stopped in to ask you if you'd seen Brittany lately?"

She frowned, folding her arms across her chest, her hair was slicked back into a bun, the shiny beads of sweat evident from the dance routine she'd just rehearsed.

"Brittany Pierce? Your finance Brittany Pierce?"

Santana looked at her sharply for a moment.

"Gossip magazines sweetheart," she shrugged, "But no," she continued, "Gosh I haven't seen Britt since she moved to New York. That was with you wasn't it?"

Santana didn't even want to answer her, if Brittany hadn't been back here, where the hell was Zoe keeping her? Dance was Brittany and Brittany was dance, if she had of started anywhere it should have been right here, where she had begun in the first place.

"I've lost her," Santana said to answer her question.

This seemed to puzzle Ms Callahan, "Well ask her cousin Zoe where she is, she lives just on the edge of town, near the mill,"

Santana froze, "Do you have an address?"

Ms Callahan shrugged, "Oh no sweet heart,"

Santana wanted to curl into a ball, she didn't realise how much disappointed one sentence could give her.

"But if you go into town, the beauty store on the corner of Alberts lane, ask for Hillary, she's friends with her,"

Santana wanted to hug her, "Thank you" she said, and she hurried back out to the convertible, praying to god that the damn engine would start.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, towards the end_

"Mmmmm, San I can taste the peppermint in your mouth,"

Santana nearly blacked out, "Britt stop speaking, every time you speak I want to do things to you,"

"So do them," Brittany replied in her ear, sucking on it briefly.

_Melting, melting like a freaking ice cream.  
><em>

Santana shifted slightly to push Brittany off, just so she could roll on top of her. Immediately Brittany opened her legs and Santana's body slipped between them.

_God it felt so good._

Brittany laughed, gripping the strands of Santana's hair and pulling. She always needed Santana closer, Santana was never close enough. Sometimes they both just literally wanted to sink into each other, almost just to become one person.

Over the past few weeks, Santana could see the stages of grief that Brittany was dealing with as she went through them. Some days she was okay; she could sleep through the night and not wake up in sweats from another nightmare. Other days she was quiet and barely said anything, those days scared Santana more than the days when Brittany was angry. It was okay when she screamed and cried, because at least Santana knew she was still feeling. It was in those moments that Brittany remained quiet and stared off into space that Santana could almost feel her pain.

Mostly Santana just wanted to keep her distracted, and if by distracted, they could spend all afternoon playing with each other's lips, then _distracted_ it was.

Brittany shifted slightly on Santana's bed, she wanted to say something, Santana could tell she had been wanting to say something all day.

"Say it," Santana smirked, tracing Brittany's lips with her thumb, "Just say whatever you need to say,"

Brittany smirked and looked sheepish, "Santana, I really want you to come to Prom with me,"

Santana rolled off her immediately, "Britt we've already spoken about this,"

"Yes well, I'm not with Artie anymore! And you and Puck aren't together so I don't understand what the problem is,"

When santana had talked with Puck, it hadn't been this big deal. She hadn't actually admitted the reason why she didn't want the so called 'open relationship', she had just said that she needed to focus on herself. When Puck had shrugged and said whatever she needed was okay by him she had nearly died. Then he'd taken it one step further and asked if they were still friends, because he still wanted Santana to be in his life and she had literally almost kissed him. Not because of anything that she felt, but just because he was Puck and he had grown up in more ways than Santana had ever thought possible. She had begged Brittany not to say anything about what they were. Brittany had broken up with Artie on her own terms, because she really hadn't liked him calling her stupid despite the hello kitty watch, and he hadn't been supportive enough about her parents.

"Britts," she said, "It's just a stupid dance, we'll have our own Prom here, I promise!" She went to kiss her again but Brittany pulled back.

"Why won't you tell anyone about us? We're not cheating Santana. I thought you wanted to be a couple?"

Santana sighed, "Brittany I'm not ready for that type of public announcement,"

Brittany rolled her eyes, "Santana why do you care, you love me don't you?"

Santana shot daggers, "Are you kidding me? You're actually asking that question?"

She groaned, "Can we not fight please! I really can't even handl…"

Santana stopped herself immediately, "I'm sorry... distraction?" and she unbuttoned her shirt.

"No!" Brittany said annoyed, "You can't just expect me to drop the subject of Prom, Rachel is already talking about dresses and…"

Santana captured her lips, stopping any more words from escaping Brittany's mouth, "Be here with me Brittsticks," she murmured, "Forget everything else, and just be here with me, right now,"

Brittany muffled something that didn't even make sense, before sliding her hand along Santana's torso and pushing upwards.

Santana felt this surge of electricity that she didn't even know how to control.

"Wait," Brittany said pulling her hand away, as though it had just been burnt, "Santana I don't know what to do,"

_Santana melted._

"And you think I do?"

"Well you're so much more…"

"Yes because Puck has a va jay jay," she said sarcastically.

Brittany snorted with laughter, "I knew there was something wrong down there with him,"

Santana smirked, "Stop," she replied, "Can we promise, that we just do whatever feels right?"

"Does that mean I can't ask questions?"

"You can't speak," Santana replied, walking her fingertips over Brittany's shirt, it was taking all her will power not to rip it off.

"But what happens if I have a reasonable question?"

"God shut up!"

Santana melded them back together again, pulling her lips over Brittany's, she could literally kiss her forever.

If you really think about it, there's not too much difference between bodies or genders, because at the end of the day, no matter who you are, you're always searching for the crevices that fit. Santana fit with Brittany, she fit in every possible way. Touching Brittany was like being allowed to touch porcelain; she was so soft sometimes Santana didn't think she was being delicate enough. In moments, Brittany had pried Santana's shirt off her body, she didn't even have time to protest because she was so far up in the clouds not even a damn anchor would bring her down.

"San," Brittany panted, "San I want you to…"

Santana's hands were tingling; it was almost like they knew where they should be. She was scared though, she'd never done this before, what if she did it wrong and it hurt Brittany? She would hate herself.

Brittany lips were pleading her to, her body was arching to the point Santana didn't think she could actually handle any more of this for much longer. Taking whatever oxygen was still left in her brain, Santana mentally took a deep breath. She couldn't actually take a real breath because Brittany had already taken that, and there was no way she was removing her tongue from wrestling with Brittany's. She tentatively trailed the hem of Brittany's jeans, feeling the heat of her skin under her shirt. She knew Brittany was burning at this; she was burning because she wanted Santana so badly, and she was just using it to her advantage. Smiling between kisses, Santana eventually gave Brittany what she wanted. She slipped her hand passed the barricade of her jeans, and pushed further. She'd never felt this before. She couldn't explain it as she pressed her fingers into Brittany. After a moment Santana found what she was looking for, and as she sank deeper, Brittany pushed her tongue further in her mouth.

"God Santana," she whispered.

Brittany was clawing at Santana's chest, trying to remove her bra, she hadn't exactly mastered how to do that yet. Brittany was soft everywhere. Even where Santana's fingers currently were, they were just drenched in softness.

Brittany arched forwards, "San," she trembled, "I'm gonna com…."

"Girls!"

The front door was slammed shut and Santana sprung away from Brittany like a damn frog, she miscalculated the edge of the bed and went soaring down along the side with a thud.

Brittany was still breathing so deeply she didn't even have time to laugh.

"That's not fair," she murmured to the ceiling.

Santana struggled to pull her shirt over her head, before picking up a text book and throwing it at Brittany.

"We're studying Mum!" She called out, and she hurried to look less hot and flustered whilst she could hear her mother coming up the stairs.

"Britt do up your pants up!"

Brittany reluctantly did her jeans up again, closing her legs and looking like someone had just cancelled Sweet Valley High.

Santana's mother entered the room just as they were turning to page fifty six, Santana nearly died as the subject title read 'Homosexuals in the 1950s'. _Fuck you sociology_.

Maria Lopez glared at them both, "I hope you weren't watching Sweet Valley High as opposed to homework?"

"No," Santana responded. Well it was the truth wasn't it, they hadn't been watching Sweet Valley High.

Maria narrowed her eyes at them, "Right well, I'm putting on dinner, wash up soon and come help me put the groceries away,"

Santana sheepishly folded her hand under her leg at the mentioned of the word _wash_.

She went to leave the room, just as Brittany rolled her tongue over her lips and made Santana twitch.

"San?" Maria asked turning back to her, "Why is your shirt on backwards?"

_Santana died. _

**. . .**

Santana stared at Brad from where he sat in one of the chairs. Glee Club was over, everyone had gone home and yet she was still here. Brittany had been in one of those moods today. One of those moods where everything and anything just pissed her off and she didn't want to deal with anything. Santana was going to take her somewhere; just so she could scream and cry, but Mr Schuester wanted to help her start her Julliard application and she had been torn. Insert Quinn Fabray and suddenly Brittany was being escorted to Pet Barn. Sometimes Quinn let the veil down; sometimes Quinn showed her glowing heart that was underneath all the tough exterior she had so strategically built up through high school.

"Santana," Mr Schuester smiled, closing the door behind him, "How are you?"

"Good thanks Mr Schue" she replied.

"And Britt? How's Britt doing these days?"

Santana shrugged, "Good days and bad days really,"

He nodded before clapping his hands, "Right I got you all the application papers needed for Julliard, we just need to think of your audition tape,"

_Wait what?_

"I don't understand Mr Schue?" she frowned.

He waved a hand at her, "Your audition tape Santana, you need to accompany your application with an audition tape showing off what you want to study, I assume that's music?"

Santana bit her lip, "Mr Schue I also want to do a business course or something that involves public relations, maybe I shouldn't…"

"Julliard has courses in that too Santana," he smiled, "Now Brad tells me, you do a perfect rendition of Fleetwood Mac's Songbird?"

Santana glared at the piano man and he seemed to slump in the chair.

"I don't know," she said through gritted teeth, "I've never sung it before,"

"Well then, that's what we're doing today," Mr Schuester smiled, pulling out sheet music, "We'll get your audition down pat before we hand in the forms,"

Santana clearly didn't have any choice in the matter, not that she minded. This is what she wanted. She really wanted to go to Julliard; she just never thought that someone would believe in her enough to go.

An hour later and Santana felt on top of the world. She definitely needed to re-sing this to Britt because she nailed all the notes so perfectly, and had learnt not to cry throughout the whole thing. As she made her way out into the late afternoon sunshine, she frowned as she noticed Rachel sitting on the school steps.

"Rachel?" she asked, "Why are you still here?"

Rachel looked up from where she had been hunched over a notebook, "Finn was supposed to drop me home, but then he made up some excuse about not having enough fuel, so now I'm just waiting for my Dads to finish work and they'll come passed,"

Sometimes Santana would have gladly belted the shit out of Finn Hudson, but he was so big she doubted she would get very far.

"Rachel don't be stupid, I'll take you home,"

Rachel blinked up at her, "Santana you don't have to do that, my Dads will be here,"

Santana huffed slightly, "What time do they finish work Rachel?"

She looked sheepish for a moment, "Around 7pm"

"Which means if I walk away your sitting out here until dark, yeah I don't think so, get up,"

Rachel laughed lightly and picked up her school bag, trailing after Santana as she stalked towards the car park towards the jeep. That was perhaps the only thing her father had done right. Bought her and car, and left it outside their apartment building with a bow on top saying _Happy Sixteenth San_. She would die without her car.

"So Julliard hey," Rachel said climbing into the passenger seat, "I heard you singing,"

Santana tensed, "It's not anything I doubt…"

"I think you'll get in," Rachel interrupted, "I think Brittany should apply for dance there as well,"

Santana stared the engine, "Rachel if anyone will get into Julliard it will be you,"

Rachel smirked, "Not if I'm not applying,"

Santana nearly ran up the gutter, "I'm sorry what?"

Rachel gave a small shrug, "I don't want to go there,"

"But Rachel Julliard is in New York, you are obsessed with New York, are you out of your mind?"

Rachel pursed her lips, "Santana, contrary to popular belief that I belong on Broadway, I have been starring in theatre productions since the age of three. I want to explore Broadway in depth as well. I want to write and direct and produce Broadway shows. And then also star in them if they can handle my talent,"

Santana rolled her eyes, _this one would never change_.

"Yale," Rachel smiled, "Yale does this for me,"

Santana turned to her, "Yale hey?"

Rachel nodded, "Connecticut, only a three hour drive from New york. My Daddy's are buying me a car for my graduation present,"

Santana laughed, "You think you'll be driving to New York in between semesters do you?"

"Well if you and Britts are there I will,"

Santana sighed, rolling down the window, so the air could drift into the vehicle; the late sun was hot on her skin.

"San," Rachel said after a moment, "Do you think we'll know each other in five years?"

Santana glanced at her, sitting there hands in her lap, text books and school bag tied around her feet, wearing an old outfit of Santana's because she hadn't been able to handle the animal sweaters for much longer. Santana answered with the first thing that came to mind, "God I hope so,"


	21. Chapter 20

Little Readers!

Naya Rivera wore a "_Brittana is love_" bracelet to the premiere of the Glee 3D concert movie!

Brittana is ON!

Anyway, just a short chapter guys

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 20<strong>

_With eyes closed tight, every step I take leads me to you_

* * *

><p><strong><em>NOW<em>**

What if our lives are measured by the moments it takes to realise all that we have? We spend every waking hour pointing out all the things we don't have, that we fail to realise all the very real things that we do. If Santana could choose one thing to have for the rest of her life, just one single thing, she would choose to lie beside Brittany and hear her breathe.

_Nothing else. _

Just to listen to her breathe.

Listening to her inhale and exhale was the greatest sound in the world.

The beauty parlour looked like it had been constructed by a six year old. She had asked for Hillary and Hillary wasn't in, and now she was just angry. She had screamed at someone who had accidentally bumped into her in the supermarket. The longer she was here, the more those intangible memories seemed to catch up with her. It was like a game, an endless game her mind was playing with.

_Catch those memories if you can._

She would walk past playgrounds and remember the lazy afternoons she'd spent drawing circles on Brittany's back. She would drive past the movie theatre, and remember that one time half way during watching _The Notebook_; Brittany had turned to her and quoted _if you're a bird I'm a bird_. She would grocery shop for her mother and think of all the times Rachel had convinced her to buy chocolate slabs for them to eat, even if Santana was still supposed to be retaining a perfect figure for the Cheerio's. However, nothing measured up to the amount of memory that hit her as she pulled up outside McKinley High.

They always say that whoever you are in high school stays apart of you. Sometimes Santana still felt confused about things, she still felt scared that one day she was going to wake up and the person she had grown into wasn't going to be good enough for the world. Brittany was the one who made her feel good enough. In high school, despite everyone, Brittany was the one person who saw through all of Santana's layers, reached in, and dragged her back out.

"Santana?"

Santana jumped so violently, her elbow clipped the side of the dashboard. She swore loudly in Spanish.

"Oh pull it together Sandbags we're in broad daylight,"

She whipped around and her mouth fell open for the second time that day.

"Ms Sylvester," she said.

That same freaking red tracksuit, _Christ all mighty_ she was still in the same damn tracksuit.

"We don't take likely to paedophiles Santana,"

She growled, "I am not..."

"Are you looking for Brittany?"

Santana stopped her jaw before it dropped.

"I had an extremely interesting phone call the other day, from one Rachel Berry. I was hoping to never hear her voice again after graduation."

Santana focused all her attention on her ex cheerleading coach.

"She insisted that if Brittany Pierce was to show up at McKinley high I should lock her in a room until you get here,"

Santana's ears starting burning.

"Now correct me if I'm wrong Miss Lopez but wouldn't that be kidnapping?"

Santana slumped in the car seat, "Honestly Ms Sylvester I don't want to do this if you don't have any info..."

"41 Pine Street, Lima, Ohio" She responded. "Brittany came by here three days ago; she was disillusioned and more lost than she was in high school. She told me about the accident, about how she doesn't remember anything and for the most part, amnesia is not something that should be taken lightly. So I wrote down her address, told her if she needed me I would be around and showed her a picture of the old cheerleading squad. She pointed at you,"

Santana got out of the car so quickly Sue nearly feel backwards, "for god's sake airbags you'll give me a stroke,"

"What did she say, did she recognize me? What did you say?"

"Nothing," she replied shrugging, "Her damn cousin walked into the room and said it was time for Brittany to go. So if anything I'm presuming Brittany assumes you're someone on her high school cheerleading squad. That cousin doesn't like you does she?"

Santana was pretty much a bowl of mixed emotions right now. She couldn't figure out what she was supposed to do.

"Be careful Santana," she said, before glancing at her chest, "Have you had a boob job?"

Santana groaned, "Thankyou Ms Sylvester, we'll be in touch,"

"The Berry girl is coming home too apparently,"

Santana glared at her, "What?"

"And Q is with her? Are you sure Glee club didn't stand for _Gay, lesbians and everyone else_?"

By some universal twist of fate her phone resounded, indicating a text message. She read Rachel Berry, followed by a _'our flight leaves tomorrow afternoon. Bringing Broadway to Ohio. We'll drag Britts down memory lane if we have to,_"

Santana wanted to cry, _thank you god_!

All the patience's and waiting had gone out the window.

Rachel was coming.

_Rachel freaking Berry_ would help Santana get her girl.

She hugged Sue Sylvester who, completely caught off guard, nearly gagged.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, almost at the end_

"Red!" Rachel said adamantly thrusting the dress in Santana's face.

"Oh Rachel, you may be annoying but my god can you pick a dress," Kurt approved clapping his hands.

Rachel shot him a look, "Of course I can, I'm going to be famous Kurt, I need to know what to wear on red carpets,"

Brittany clapped and stood up, "Okay my turn, pick a dress for me,"

Santana watched as Rachel dragged her into the change room, when Brittany had emerged, she swore to god Rachel had only picked that dress to tease the hell out of Santana. It was back less, trailed right down to the dimples on Brittany's lower back, god she loved pressing her fingers into those dimples.

"What do you think San?"

Santana wanted to tell her that she was the hottest girl in the entire world, and how lucky she was that Brittany was _her _girl, but of course she opted for the safety answer.

"You look great Britt,"

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Q's turn," Kurt quipped.

"Oh no I'm fine; I don't want to go to Prom,"

If there had of been an earthquake Santana highly much doubted any one of them would have registered it had happened.

"What?" Kurt asked, shaking his head, "Oh god it's the plague, you've got the plague, it's taken over Quinn Fabray's mind,"

Q shrugged, "I don't want to go, what's the point if I don't get to be homecoming queen?"

Santana felt awkward. Do you ever wish you could fast forward certain moments in your life just to see how it all turned out and then quickly go back to the scene so you knew how to handle it? Finn wanted to take Rachel to the prom, Rachel wanted to take her sparkling microphone to the prom, and Quinn wanted to go with Finn because they would be a sure bet for homecoming King and Queen. Quinn had wanted that damn tiara since she was in elementary.  
>"Q, it's plastic," Rachel responded.<p>

Quinn shot her a glare and Santana swallowed hard, _abort mission Rachel, abort, abort, abort!_

"You wouldn't understand, you were never a sure bet anyway,"

Santana wanted to do something, she wanted to stand in and play referee because she knew Quinn could still cut Rachel down, despite all this civility that had come about in their senior year.

Clearly Santana had underestimated Rachel and her use of words lately.

"Quinn," she reasoned, stepping around the rack of dresses they had been going through, "You are the prettiest girl I have ever met, but there is more to you than just a pretty face,"

Santana stilled, _whoa_, Rachel just complimented Quinn, and she, _wait Q is smiling at her_.

Santana stared at the small smile planted on Quinn's lips,

"How do you know there's more to me Rachel?"

Rachel shrugged smiling, "I just do,"

_Okay they were flirting_; Santana knew they were flirting because she did it with Brittany nearly every second of every day. Rachel and Quinn were flirting in front of them.

Kurt cleared his throat, "Okay so I might just pop into the little boys room, and on my way out say hello to the giant elephant in the room,"

Brittany whirled around, "Where? Where's the elephant?"

Santana laughed and stood up to let him passed, she moved to Brittany and hugged her. She was allowed to hug her wasn't she, no one would suspect anything if she just hugged her?

"Help me get out of this?" Brittany asked biting her lip slightly.

Santana looked over her shoulder to where Rachel was explaining the difference between certain shades on the colour wheel chart. Sophomore Quinn would have snapped the thing over her head. This Quinn was different; she was staring at Rachel as though she was hanging off every last word.

"Q, your eyes are so wonderfully green, you need to have something green, and then they'll shine. Not that they don't already do…"

Santana had decided, that the best thing about Rachel was how flustered she seemed to get, and then she'd go into a little tangent that most of the time didn't really make any sense but you were so busy caught up in how adorable she seemed, that it didn't really matter. Insert Quinn Fabray looking at Rachel with this '_you're so cute'_ face and even Santana saw the giant elephant.

Brittany pulled her into the change room.

"San, do you really like my dress?"

Closed doors and Santana finally took the mask off.

She pinned Brittany roughly against the wall, "You're so damn sexy sometimes I forget what colour the sky is,"

Brittany flushed, "Santana, your voice drops when you say that, and it…" she paused shyly, "It turns me on,"

Santana refused to speak anymore words, she kissed her, parting her lips and forcing Brittany to let her tongue slip inside.

Santana somehow managed to get the dress of her, without any real work, and she decided right then and there, that this was definitely the dress Brittany was going to wear to prom. "Santana we can't do this in a change room," Brittany whispered in between Santana touching her in every possible way.

Santana stopped for a moment, she was confused by what Brittany meant by _this_.

"But you're so amazing Brittsticks,"

This part was 100% true, Brittany's body; _god_ Santana couldn't even justify words.

"Santana are we going to have sex soon?"

Bang. Santana's insides nearly exploded. She pulled away.

"What?"

"You're always taking my clothes off, and putting your hands down my pants, and I really want to do…stuff to you, but I don't know whether that's classified as sex because we're girls,"

This was where they were supposed to have all the answers right? They were young adults; they knew what they were doing, right? Christ why in the hell didn't they have sex education on same sex couples? In fact why didn't they have education on how to be a same sex couple in public instead of hiding away because you were too afraid to come out to everyone and be ridiculed? Where the hell was that education America?

"Brittany I thought we said we were just going to do whatever felt natural?"

"But Santana sometimes you make me feel all these feelings that I can't control,"

Brittany was basically word spilling everything Santana had felt for the past two damn years.

"It's okay," Brittany added, kissing her, and pushing off from the wall, "When you're ready, I'm ready okay,"

Santana depressingly watched as she dressed herself.

"What are you two doing in there?" Quinn called, "This girl is now trying to tell me I should cut my hair!"

Santana and Brittany laughed, "My buttons wouldn't do up properly," she called back.

"Quinn would look hot with short hair," Santana smirked, picking up the dress and slinging it over her shoulder.

"San, I'm sorry if sometimes I push you to talk about us, but it's just I want everyone to know you're mine. If you're still scared, it's okay though, I know high school is so ruthless. Just tell me when you're comfortable okay?"

Santana leant over to her and kissed the very corner of her lips, "When did you get so smart?" she whispered, and Brittany beamed.

"San," Brittany whispered as they walked home, she was clutching her Prom dress and Santana had bought her red one.

The air felt so good today, it was the weekend, Puck was having a small gathering at his tonight and Sam Evans had promised to bring guitar hero. It felt like what Senior Year should feel like, the last little bit of time with the people who had helped to mould you, before everyone spread their wings.

"Yes Britt," she asked, pulling on a small white flower, from someone's shrub. She handed it to Brittany who smiled.

"I want to go to Julliard,"

Santana literally stopped walking, "You want to what?"

"I know my grades aren't very good, but Mr Schuester said that I could probably get in on my dancing ability alone. Mike said he would help me figure out an amazing routine,"

Santana wanted to know how far public displays of affection were allowed to be taken, when she realised they were standing outside a church she instantly pushed those thoughts from her mind.

"Britt, that's amazing," she smiled.

"But I wanted to know if you'd be okay with it, me applying there, I know it's your dream and everything, but I really want to be somewhere that lets me dance…"

"You're my dream," Santana said before she could stop herself.

Brittany stared at her, she leant towards her, pausing briefly, "Please?" she asked.

_Santana melted._

Brittany kissed her as soon as she knew Santana wasn't going to pull away because they were in public. A guy and his dog walked passed, just as Brittany had nearly pinned her against a telegraph pole and instantly Santana got cold feet.

"Let's keep walking…"

Brittany shrugged lightly, "I just made out with you in public," she said happily.

Santana smirked, before holding her pinkie out and letting Brittany take it. This would be okay; she just had to figure out a way to let everyone else know what her dreams were. Maybe she could just make an announcement in Glee Club that she was in love with Britt.

_Oh god_, Santana thought, _I'd rather pretend I have fake boobs_.


	22. Chapter 21

Little readers!

I'm so proud of how you've stuck with me!

Here it is, finally...

That being said, this is just the beginning. The rollercoaster isn't over yet. Not by a long shot. Brace yo selves!

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 21<strong>

_I found you, but you haven't found me_

* * *

><p><strong><em>NOW<em>**

There's certain feelings that rest just below the pit of your heart, they surface only on occasion when there's only you, your window and the gentle glow of the sun outside. Santana was standing just beside the automatic doors, watching people come and go from the Lima SuperMarket. She didn't exactly know what she was doing, she just knew that Rachel and Quinn would be here later tonight and she had no idea what to make for dinner. She had the damn address of where Britt was in her pocket, scribbled on a piece of paper. She wanted to drive there, storm through the doors, punch Zoe and then rescue Brittany. But as Kurt had explained in detail over Skype, she would most likely be arrested and Brittany would never ever want to see her. How did she win? How did she win in all of this? She was writing everything that entered her mind into that notebook, but what use was any of it if Brittany never got the chance to read it?

All of this felt exactly like the way it felt back in high school when Santana was stuck between the person she was, the person she wanted to be, and the person she was becoming. She needed Brittany to fall in love with her again. She needed Brittany to see that love that had molded them together in high school. She didn't know how to go about it. Kurt had tried to explain all the ways to diplomatically handle the situation last night, but Santana missed him so much she just wanted him to talk about the latest Broadway events back in New York. Santana had come to a realisation that nothing is ever easy, nothing is ever simplified into one moment. Rather it's broken into small pieces and spread over our lives in different feelings that none of us will ever understand.

There is no such thing as a grown up; you grow taller, and you learn more and maybe if you're lucky you'll earn more, but you'll never outgrow those insecurities that developed way back when you were so tiny, those insecurities like how you look or what everyone thinks or that the people you love most are going to walk out the door when you need them most. By reason the hardest part about growing up, is letting go of what you're use to and moving on with something completely different. Brittany was her past though, Brittany was her present, and Brittany would be her future. If that wasn't simple, Santana didn't know what was. All she wanted right now, is to do exactly what they had in high school, pretend that they lived amongst the clouds or danced in between the stars, because in the sky, their world was always limitless and the feelings they couldn't make sense of didn't really matter. All the love that was so fleeting and momentary on earth was always fixated on the points of infinity. Their love was infinite right?

Looking at a small girl as she reached up and took her mother's hand, Santana wished that she was a cell in Brittany's blood, because at least then, no matter what her brain remembered, Santana would be sure to be somewhere in Brittany's heart.

Her phone sounded and she answered, absentmindedly drawing her eyes away from the little girl, she looked exactly like the type of child that would come from Brittany. It made her weak in the knees.

"San,"

"Yes Mum?" Santana asked.

"Let's make manchego for Rachel and Quinn,"

She smirked, "Mum last time we made that Quinn had an allergic reaction,"

"Oh querido, she must have been pretending, my pisto manchego is to die for, can you get me chilli and garlic?"

Santana muttered "yes", before finally walking into the store.

She had such a habit of standing at different places throughout town, just hoping Brittany would somehow show up. Maybe people like certain words, those words that can be said in a thousand different languages, across a hundred different cities and yet they each hold the same value, the same meanings. When someone asks you something that starts with "_can you_", or "_I need you to_," it sends a gentle ripple to the receiver. It sends the message that you're needed by someone. Doesn't everyone want that feeling that someone needs them? Santana needed Brittany, she needed her so badly and it hurt to think that Brittany might not need her.

Once upon a time Santana used to believe that if she tried really hard she could almost feel pockets of star shine coming through her window. If she held onto it really tightly, she could trap the light in her palms and it would fill her with all the love that people don't show often enough. She would lie on her bedroom floor, with Brittany on top of her, placing gentle kisses to her cheek and she would know what love was. She would know the magic of their hearts beating for each other, inhaling each other's scents, and having each other everywhere inside. That was the feeling Santana craved as she pondered through the herbs section, she craved the most precious thing in the world, the feeling of being in her Brittany's arms, and knowing that she would be okay.

She picked a handful of chilli sticks up and put them in a plastic bag, before turning slightly.

_Christ._

Grey cardigan, jeans, plain white t-shirt, blonde hair draped over her shoulders, small scar fixated on the top of her forehead. _Brittany. Brittany. Brittany._

"Brittany," Santana called without even thinking.

She looked up from where she had been piling carrots into a bag. She seemed startled.

_You found her; enough was enough, Santana fucking walk over to her._

Tentatively, like a cat slinking its way behind a corner, Santana moved towards her.

Brittany didn't dare look away from her.

"Hello," Santana near but whispered. _There's something actually wrong with you. You say hello? HELLO?_

As Brittany struggled to find words, Santana didn't take her eyes off her, she trailed over every inch of her, just so she could absorb her long enough to be able to live.

Brittany moved slightly, "I know you don't I? Santana? Santana Lopez?" she said.

_Christ yes, yes baby you do,_

"Artie told me about you,"

Santana felt all the air leave her body.

"Artie?"

Brittany nodded, "My fiancé,"

The world stopped. Everyone in the supermarket disappeared and it was just Santana standing in front of the love of her life, trying to not to break in front of her.

"He said you were on my cheerleading squad at school,"

This is what it felt to die. She was dying, she was literally dying. Santana barely managed to choke out, "What… what …else did he say?"

"Nothing, Zoe has helped me go through the memories, she showed me pictures, pointed people out, I'm slowly trying to piece things back together. I can't believe I'm getting married! Zoe said he was my high school sweetheart that waited for me whilst I went to New York, so nice of him"

Santana couldn't breathe; she must have been hyperventilating, because Brittany was frowning at her.

"I really appreciate you coming to the hospital Santana, Zoe said that as School Captain you felt it your duty to check up on me, that was really sweet of you, but it's okay, I'm doing well, I have my family and that's what matters,"

_I'm your fucking family. Rachel and Quinn are your fucking family. What in gods name is happening?_

Santana couldn't string words together. The words were gone and there was nothing.

"It was nice seeing you, I think," she smiled slightly, "But my cousins is waiting, I have to go, take care Santana,"

Santana watched her go. Her star shine walked from her and she had absolutely no way of stopping her. The chilli's had been scrunched in her palms and were leaking red. They looked like the blood that was now pouring from Santana's broken heart.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, we're at the end, we're at prom!_

Rachel Berry could sing. She could sing like someone could walk. As if it was she was meant to do it the moment she was born. Now she was singing one of the songs that had been selected for the Prom List on stage and people couldn't dance properly because they were too busy staring at her. The auditorium had been decorated in starry lights, balloons and words like _hope, friendship, courage_. As Santana glanced around at her school friends, her Glee Club friends in particular, she found herself not wanting to be anywhere else. She didn't want to think about how things could have been, had she never joined Glee Club. She wanted to stay feisty and quick on her feet but at the same time people like Rachel Berry and Tina Chang had shown her kindness. They had shown her that maybe everyone isn't all that different; maybe everyone is just searching for something to be good at. God tonight, she had even been nice and taken a photo with Mc Stubbles.

"Santana dance with us! "Rachel laughed dragging her into the circle.

She laughed as Puck attempted the moon walk.

_Prom_, she had made it to prom, she was with her friends, and she'd never felt more alive.

"Hey," whispered that familiar voice.

Santana turned to see Brittany before her, the dress looked better on her than it did in the change rooms.

"I wish I could tell everyone you were my date,"

Santana opened her mouth to remind her that they'd weren't going to talk about things like that tonight but Brittany silenced her, "But I'll settle for you being my most awesome best friend that looks smoking hot,"

Santana melted as Brittany leant close into her ear, "Even though I know you're my best friend _and_ my girl, but that's a secret that I don't mind keeping for now,"

The funniest part of the entire night was Mr Schuester's rendition of Madonna's _Say a little prayer_. He belted out the entire thing after he'd sucked all the helium out of seven balloons. Santana had nearly pissed herself. Then everyone wanted helium voices, and Puck had literally needed to go pee.

"You look beautiful San," Quinn said leaning on the side of the bathroom wall.

Santana finished washing her hands to look at her in the mirror, "Green suits you," she smirked.

Quinn laughed, before her shoulders slumped,

"Q," Santana reasoned, "You know you're already prom queen don't you,"

She shrugged, "Oh Santana, it doesn't even matter anymore,"

"No really Q, do you know how much you've grown? You're not as angry, your words are kinder, and god you're nice to Rachel,"

Quinn smiled, "Rachel, well, I can't even explain Rachel,"

Santana smirked, _oh Rachel freaking Berry. _

Santana took her hand, "I respect you Quinn Fabray, always know that,"

Quinn beamed, as Santana laughed and dragged her from the bathroom.

There had been silence. Complete; crickets chirping in the background silence.

When Principal Figgins had announced that Kurt was Prom Queen, the entire auditorium had gone silent. Santana couldn't work out whether this type of thing was supposed to be okay, whether this was meant to be something that was a good thing.

Kurt had entered the stage slowly at first, but then he had donned the crown with all the courage and dignity that Santana still hadn't found within herself and announced into the microphone that Kate Middleton could eat her heart out.

Almost immediately Kurt had removed the Tiara and asked Quinn to come up on stage. Santana felt Quinn move passed them, she seemed to float up onstage like some cloud that you could watch forever. Kurt had smiled at her, snapped the tiara in half, to which nearly a dozen girls had actually gasped and then presented half of it to Quinn.

"It's yours too," he had said.

Quinn pulled the microphone clean off the stand and she held it steadily to her lips. This had been McKinley's High's leader. Captain of the Cheerio's, School President, Girl everyone wanted to be, every single set of eyes were on her.

"Kurt Hummel, is the best thing that has happened to this school. He is strong. He is magnificently talented, and he…" she paused and looked at him, "He is my friend,"

And just like that, the entire school erupted in cheers.

**. . .**

Santana's room was pitch black as she stumbled blindly through the darkness, trying to avoid furniture, and Brittany giggling behind her.

"Shit," she said angrily as she stepped on the hair straightener.

"Shhh," Brittany replied, pushing into her.

As though it had been rehearsed they found Santana's bed, like they usually did, and Brittany was in her underwear in seconds.

"Do you have any idea how amazing you are," Santana whispered, pulling their lips together.

"Devil in a red dress," she responded, gripping Santana's thighs and pulling them around her waist.

For a moment or two, Santana was completely lost in everything that was Brittany. Touching her, fighting with her tongue, curling her fingers through her hair.

"Wait," Brittany said slightly breathless, "Are we, I mean is this what you do after prom?"

Santana thought on this, "I don't know," she said.

"Santana I don't know whether I want to, it doesn't feel right,"

"Why?"

"Because I want to be your girlfriend,"

Santana smirked, "Oh I'm pretty sure you already ar…."

"No don't," Brittany pleaded, "I want you to ask me San,"

Santana paused, she wanted to taste her so badly, "Okay Brittsticks will you be my…"

"No, you can't ask me unless you're sure,"

"Brittany we're pretty much naked, I'm pretty sure I definitely want you to be my…"

"But you don't want anyone else to know, and I can't be that person if I'm a secret,"

Santana hung her head on Brittany's shoulder; _she was way too smart now._

"Can I hold you?" she whispered after a while.

Brittany curled into, feeling the heat between their bodies, as it hung like this unresolved maths problem.

"Don't ever stop holding me Santana,"

_Santana melted._

"Santana," Brittany whispered in the night, "Could you see us having a family?"

Santana tightened her grip around her, sliding her hands up and down the length of Brittany's back,

"Yes baby," she whispered, "We'll grow old together,"

"Would you ever marry me?"

Santana felt her heart tick over.

"I will marry you Brittsticks," she kissed the top of her head, "I promise I'll marry you someday,"


	23. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

_I won't tell you baby, I'll show you_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

"Santana I promise if you don't calm down I'm going to go Lima Heights adjacent on your own ass. You see this face Santana? This is my annoyed face,"

Santana threw her shoe at the wall and Quinn rolled her eyes, "She won't listen,"

Tina bit her lip, "San this is not helping the situation. We need to sit down and talk about this,"

"Talk? Talk? I'm going to murder him!"

Tina shuddered involuntarily, when Santana was pissed off, she was freaking pissed off.

The bedroom door was flung open and Rachel walked into the room holding a clipboard. "Santana Lopez sit down and stop being a child," she instructed.

Santana immediately stopped searching for stilettos sharp enough for a murder weapon.

Quinn smirked, "I love you in control baby,"

Rachel smiled lightly before moving into the room and eyeing the destroyed wardrobe.

"God Santana why the clothes? Anything but the clothes?"

She shot daggers with her eyes to which Rachel hurriedly opened her clipboard.

"Okay," she said inhaling, "This meeting is to commence operation save Brittana,"

Santana groaned, "This is not a game Rachel. This is not high school. All those conjoined names and operation save whoever don't apply. I'm an adult. Brittany is an adult. This is serious,"

Santana hadn't seen one of Rachel's open mouthed defensive expressions since college, "Santana I know this is serious. But I also know that we need a plan. Obviously Zoe has changed the way Brittany's memories work,"

Tina cleared her throat, "Santana my grandfather had dementia before he passed. He deteriorated rapidly, sometimes he created memories that had never been there, and it was left to us to either convince him they never happened or to go along with it," she shrugged slightly, "Zoe is in a very good position to rewrite everything Brittany thought her childhood was. It would be so easy for her to make Britt interpret photos in different ways,"

"By telling her I'm just some girl who she cheerleader-ed with?" Santana asked incredulously.

Quinn huffed, "Santana, a lot of our photos have been either lost or left behind, and you going and getting famous meant complete deletion of facebook, any another other social network that might have given some evidence of your relationship. Britts was scared of twitter, so she doesn't have anything either. You know this."

Santana looked at her, "I have photos! What about the ones we gave you for the wedding slideshow?"

Quinn's eyes lit up.

"No," Rachel said, "Zoe has more than likely manipulated everything, we don't know what she's put into Britts head,"

"How about the fucking fact she's marrying Artie," Santana snapped.

Rachel went ghost white, "Christ San, I have no idea how the hell that even happened,"

Tina cleared her throat, "Artie hasn't been doing too well lately,"

Santana rounded on her, "Do not defend him" she said, "He just happens to agree to help change Brittany's memories does he?"

"San," Tina reasoned, "Artie never fell out of love with her, he's desperate,"

"She's mine!" Santana shot back and Tina fell silent.

"Enough," Rachel said sternly, "We're going to plan this. We're going to prove to Brittany that you're _it_ Santana. We just need a plan,"

"My plan involves myself rolling Mcstubbles of a cliff,"

"Santana," Quinn rounded forcefully, "Don't. We went to school with Artie, he was just as much one of our friends as anyone else,"

"Friends don't do this," she snapped before turning and glaring at Tina, "You kept in contact with him all these years? What happened?"

Tina bit her lip, "San, I thought you would know, Brittany still kept in contact with him as well,"

Santana raised her eyes brows, "what?" why the hell was she just finding out about this now.

"He went to college, he got his degree in biology and he works at the local lab just out of town. But he never had another girlfriend. He just seemed to go down-hill from there. I don't know where his head is at San, but his phones switched off and I think this is something that we need to be very careful with,"

Rachel nodded, "Zoe will be watching Brittany like a hawk. Which means at every possible interval, we slip you in. Brittany needs to remember those feelings Santana, if she remembers those feelings maybe we'll get somewhere,"

"As for priorities," Quinn interjected, "You're ringing Andrew, your taking extensive leave," she paused, "And Kurt is house sitting god bless his soul,"

"Oh Kurt," Tina smiled, "I miss him so much sometimes,"

Quinn smiled.

"I don't understand how this is supposed to work," Santana muttered, moving from where she had been half sitting on her desk, and sitting herself down on the bed next to Quinn.

Quinn looked at Rachel, it was almost like they knew exactly what needed to be said even if the words hadn't been uttered out loud.

"Santana, this has never been about anything other than what we've always stood for. The very idea that Love has no gender. Everything we all went through in college, in trying to decide who we were all came back to the one simple belief that love was love and there was not a damn thing any of us could do about it,"

This was _speech making_ Quinn. This was, I have kept quiet this entire time, observing you and taking everything in without telling you what I really think, and now I'm just going to give it to you. Lay everything on the table.

"Yes Santana this is not high school. This is life and in it, we've been around every possible corner. You in the press with the headlines, that dirt bag of a boss who fired me after realising my sexuality," her eyes flared at the memory, "But it's all amounted to us knowing who our one person is,"

_Rachel was crying_.

"Stop," she murmured, "Baby your words sometimes are too much and I can't handle it, I just, fuck Quinn I love you,"

Santana smiled slightly, Rachel very rarely swore, she believed that if she swore some invisible man was going to come and shove a cake soap down her mouth. This was probably due to the old tale her Dads continuously told her once upon a time.

"Regardless," Quinn continued, "There are always two sides to every story. We don't know what Artie is intending, until we do, we need to go about this in all the right ways. We don't tell Brittany, we _show_ her, have faith San, just have faith,"

She took a deep breath and nodded, she went to ask what the first step was but Rachel cut her off.

"The first step relies on that fact we need to cement you back in her life. Brittany's fragile Santana, if she finds a confident in you, then we've got a way in,"

"And what if Zoe has destroyed Santana's image in the process, made out as though Brittany shouldn't see her," Quinn murmured.

"No," Tina spoke up, "No I don't think that's possible. Brittany will be asking questions, a lot of those questions she'll find the answers in the old year books. San said she'd seen Ms Sylvester. That must have thrown a diversion into Zoe's plans. At least now Zoe has to acknowledge that Santana was a apart of Brittany's past, its just how much, well, I guess that's where we come in?"

"Precisely," Rachel said, "Now I have to make calls, because the stage props are going to be here tomorrow morning, and if there isn't a truck big enough, I'll need to ship one in,"

Tina frowned, "What?"

"New York in the Sun," Quinn replied.

Tina raised her eyebrows, "You're bringing New York to Lima Ohio?"

Rachel nodded, as though it was going to be the most simplest thing in the history of the world.

"And you're aware that the old theatre burnt down about three years ago,"

"Completely aware, I just bought McKinley High's auditorium off April Rhodes,"

Santana smacked a hand to her forehead, "God Rachel is there any part of Broadway that your name isn't on?"

Rachel beamed, handing her the first list of places where Brittany may or may not go to.

"You be at all those places San, you be in all of those places and you show Brittany that she needs you,"

"I'll be helping in between designing stage flyers, any time I see her, I'll ring you, Tina and Mike will do the same," Quinn said nodding.

Santana glared at the piece of paper, with three stars in the corner, Brittany had promised she would always need her. Santana would always need Brittany, surely she would realise how much she needed Santana.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, nearly at the end_

There are certain moments in your life that you look back on and think that those were the ones that shaped who you were; the people you met, the things you achieved are all imitations of the person you are going to be. The light was fading fast, disappearing behind the clouds before Santana had even had the chance to pull the jumper from the back of her car. She stood for a moment, staring at the sky as though she'd never seen it before. It was pretty today, Lima didn't feel as dead beat as it usually did. She waited by her vehicle, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as her breathe stained the frosted air in brief wisps of steam.

_She was late._

Santana moved to the bonnet of her vehicle, pulling herself onto it so she could soak in the warmth of her engine. The car was most likely the warmest place right now, but she couldn't sit inside, she was too nervous, she felt trapped in there. Staring idly at the overpass bridge above her, she felt her lungs give out as the familiar Ford Ranger rolled through the small gate way to the old shipping docks.

_She was here._

Santana slid off the bonnet of her vehicle, sidestepping slowly, to allow the ranger to pull into the space beside her. She waited a moment, for the engine to be cut and the driver's to door open. And in moments, Brittany was standing before her, wrapped in a jumper and pulling a blanket from the back of her car.

"Sorry ," she smiled, "Lord Tubbington had a bit of a crisis, he's either still trying with Quinn's mother's cooking or I think he might be going through menopause,"

Santana smirked slightly, the look on Brittany's face as she explained anything was so god damn adorable, it was any wonder Santana could stop herself from pulling her closer every time she opened her mouth.

"How are you?" Brittany asked, moving towards her.

Santana smiled awkwardly, "better than last week,"

Brittany offered her arms, and Santana stepped into them immediately, she had missed the warmth of her body pressed tightly against hers. Brittany hummed for a few moments, rubbing Santana's back in circular motions to reassure her.

"It's okay San," she said quietly, "It's all okay,"

Santana didn't want to cry, she didn't want to feel this exhausted from all the tears she had shed, but being held by Brittany like this made her feel so safe she didn't know what else to do. Three weeks ago, she had sat down with her mother and told her she was in love with Brittany. She had just said it. Just like that, told her everything, and asked her to accept her. Her mother had responded by telling Brittany to leave. So right now, Brittany was staying with Quinn, and everything was just upside down, because if this had been her mother's reaction what would everyone else think? Quinn just thought it was because their landlord had found out an extra person was staying in the apartment. Honestly how could she keep up with all these excuses. Rachel was suss, she Skyped Santana nearly every night demanding a conversation with Santana's mother.

Brittany pulled away for a moment, just enough for their noses to graze, and for Santana to soak in her familiar smell.

Santana shivered a moment, maybe it was from the cold, or maybe it was from how immensely nervous Brittany made her, even with just a small smile.

"Your car or mine?" she asked, tilting her head.

Santana would always think a million other thoughts every time she said this, she dreamed that Brittany meant which car they would be undeniably making out in for the rest of night. But over the past few weeks all she had meant by it, was which car were they going to sit in for the next hour while Santana poured her heart out about everything. She wasn't used to this, the bit about feelings, and half the time she could feel her skin throbbing for just one small ounce of permission to reach over and play with Brittany's lips.

She sidled into the passenger seat of Brittany's car, propping her feet up on the dashboard as she leant back into the fur of the seat cover. Brittany climbed in, pushing the seat backwards and adjusting her leg space room. She nodded to the package she had bought.

"Eat," she instructed.

Santana did what she was told; because Brittany was the only person she would listen to.

"So, really Santana how are you?"

"How I do I look?"

"Beautiful," Brittany whispered.

Santana felt her insides melt, she felt the stupid face of adoration printing its way across her features as she looked at her best friend.

"I can't take this!" she said suddenly, moving the food aside and leaning towards Brittany.

"No," she resounded shaking her head, "Santana we said were going to take things slow, we were going to work on our feelings first, and with everything going on at home and Glee Club I just don't think it's a good idea for us to be, well, the way we were,"

"But I can't take that," she replied desperately, "Brittany you are the only thing that makes any sense to me, and kissing you and touching you and holding you is the only real way I can show my feelings for you,"

Brittany thought on this a moment.

Those moments felt like hours to Santana, one nod, one inkling that would suggest she could kiss her, and so help her god she was going to attack her. It had been over a month.

"No," Brittany said again, "you were the one who suggested it remember? You were the one who said we should stop, you can't just say that to me and change your mind Santana, I'm not some remote you can just switch on and off,"

This was perhaps the most profound thing Brittany had ever said, it made so much sense, Santana wondered if this was actually Brittany talking right now.

"I know you're not a remote, but think about this, I run on batteries, and you recharge those batteries, if I don't get my daily dose of Brittsticks I run on empty, and before you know it, the fuels on empty and I'm left on the side of the highway,"

Brittany stared at her slightly confused, "but Santana, you drink water not fuel?"

Santana laughed slightly, _there she is_.

Brittany crossed her arms lightly against her chest; she seemed so defiant in her objection.

"I have a problem you see," Santana continued, "a few weeks ago, me and _my_ girl decided to step back a little bit, to be just friends for a while. Just to figure out what the other wanted. That would have been okay, had I been able to talk to my best friend about it,"

Brittany's face suddenly lightened,

"But," Santana murmured, "you're both,"

She didn't even have time to move the paper bag from her lap, because Brittany had leant across the interval and pressed her lips against Santana's. They felt so warm and soft it was all she could do not to press harder. Santana didn't know whether Brittany felt it or not, but it felt like two people meeting after miles of being apart, it felt like two people touching after years of separation, it felt like two people finally coming together after years of being alone.

Brittany pulled away slightly, "San," she muttered, "are you sure you want this, I mean really want this?"

Santana tucked her hand behind Brittany's neck to pull her closer, so the very tips of their noses were touching.

"I've always just wanted you," she murmured.

Brittany smiled slightly tangling her hands in Santana's hair and pushing forward.

Momentarily Santana was kissing her again, softly at first, but then Brittany opened her mouth slightly and let Santana slip her tongue inside, entwining it with hers as she allowed her hands to wander.

"Santana," Brittany whispered, her breaths lost between Santana's gentle touches, "Santana are we going to do this?"

Santana pulled her lips away from Brittany's, studying her eyes, under the light that was shining from the overpass outside.

"It's not like we haven't before?" she murmured, trailing her thumb down the side of Brittany's cheek. Sometimes late at night, she swore she could see snowflakes on Brittany's skin, they were soft and delicate, and they were swirling across her cheeks like a windstorm that was never going to end.

"But this feels different,"

Santana tilted her head briefly, shifting in the seat, in a bid to drag Brittany onto of her, but she held back.

"How does it feel different?"

"Because I'm in love with you Santana,"

The air seemed to catch in Santana's throat as those words rolled from Brittany's lips. They had said they loved each other since they were freshmen, loved each other as best friends. It had been different this year, those words held so much more value to them, it was nearly impossible not to lock them in a box for fear someone might steal them away. Now in this very moment those words had all but changed again, because Brittany was staring at her so intently, it was all Santana could do not to melt into her.

"Brittany I've been in love with you for so long, you know that,"

"But it's both of us Santana, what if this changes us?"

"It won't." she reasoned, and she fought with her own thumping heart, over whether or not Brittany was right.

Brittany pushed forward, falling into Santana's lap, her thighs gently grazing either side of Santana's hips. She stared down at her, running her lips over Santana's cheek, in a bid to steal the words from her mouth.

"I'm so in love with you Brittany, sometimes I can't even remember to breathe,"

Brittany smiled slightly, pulling Santana's jumper up over her head and tossing it on the seat next to them. She trailed her fingers over Santana's neck, across the crevices of her collarbone and down to the centre of her chest; she could feel her heart beating to quickly it may as well have jumped out from her chest and settled itself between them.

Brittany was pulling at Santana, frustrated by the clothes between them. Smirking slightly Santana moved her hand to the lever and switched it forwards so the seat kicked backwards and suddenly Brittany was sinking through her clothes. She felt her move for a moment, unbuttoning her jeans and dragging them from her legs. She snapped the hook on Santana's bra and clawed it from her body, pressing her lips to her chest. Santana ran her hands through Britney's hair, and down her shoulders, trailing her spine until she could feel the dimples in Brittany's lower back. She smiled slightly, running her tongue over Santana lips, before reaching for her hands and curling them with hers.

"Santana," she whispered again. God she would want Brittany to whisper her name forever.

Santana could barely breathe let alone speak but she murmured a mixed response between saying _what_ and _yes_ which sounded like yacht before Brittany held her gaze.

"Stay still,"

Santana frowned briefly, but before she could respond, Brittany lowered herself sweeping her tongue down Santana's torso, and trailing past her naval, until Santana lost all comprehension of time and Brittany wrote the alphabet with her tongue.


	24. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

_I'll make you love me all over again, small steps beautiful, just small steps_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Brittany stared at the list in front of her. Hand scrawled across the page was Zoe's writing. She'd added different things to the list, but it was getting to the point where it felt like Zoe was adding things when Brittany was sleeping, half the things she didn't recall actually remembering.

Her head ached.

It ached so much even after all the medication that had been prescribed to her. She'd seen the doctor this morning, a referral from the hospital, Dr Gibson had been her local doctor when she was younger; _apparently_. He remembered her, Brittany only vaguely remembered him. She stared down at the year book Zoe had hired out from McKinley High's library, going through it cover to cover, she felt as though it should be longer, she felt as though there should be more pages, as though somewhere along the lines, things had been ripped out.

She was staring at the cheerleading photo. The Cheerio's. A group of red and white uniforms, girls smiling, one boy at the front beaming with a large trophy and the _Nationals Title_. Brittany stood in the middle row, next to Santana.

Santana that was her name wasn't it?

She'd seen her in the grocery store the other day, her School Captain. She didn't understand why she couldn't find the page that listed the captains, shouldn't they have had portraits? The only photos she could see were from The Cheerio's and Glee Club. She couldn't remember ever being as happy as she was when she was in Glee Club. Had Artie continued to make her happy after high school?

Brittany curled the pillow towards her moving the book to the side and closing her eyes. Lately sleeping seemed so much easier than being awake. When she was awake, it felt like everything was slowly falling apart. When she was asleep she could feel _that touch_. It was distant, she didn't know what it meant, but it was someone's hand drawing circles in her back, pressing soft kisses to her neck, whispering that she meant everything to them. The voice was so faded, their face was blank and Brittany couldn't focus properly on the image.

She snapped her eyes back open, muffling a cry with the corner of the pillow.

Why couldn't she remember? Artie didn't give her that feeling when he brushed past her. He was sweet and he never once stopped asking if she needed anything, but was this the love of her life? Why didn't she feel it, had she felt it before the accident? Where was that feeling? Where was that hand that trailed down her body, leaving behind fingerprints of a story that she couldn't remember.

…

McKinley High stood silhouetted against the fading afternoon sunlight as Santana made her way into the building. She peeped her head into one of the detention rooms and noticed a group of students sitting around throwing paper balls and mucking around. God high school will never change. She remembered all the afternoons she and Brittany would be in detention because Sue Sylvester believed they were paying more attention to Glee Club than the Cheerio's. _So what if they were_ Santana had always shot back.

Even though she always complained about detention, secretly she loved it, because she and Britts would sit up the back and laugh over the most stupid things. Brittany would impersonate everyone and anyone and then they'd make up dance routines. Half the time every other kid in detention would just join in with them, because they looked like they were having so much fun. They were. They were always having fun.

Santana hadn't forgotten these hallways. _Christ _she murmured as she reached the _Hurt Locker_, she brushed her fingertips over it; all those most important points in her high school life were embedded within these lockers.

"Santana Lopez?"

She jumped slightly, the corridors were so quiet, the voice had echoed.

She turned to see Ms Pillsbury standing in front of her. She hadn't changed either. Same quaint sweater, plaid skirt and white stockings; Santana wondered if she would ever graduate from the school girl image.

"Miss Lopez, what are you doing here?"

"I was taking a trip down memory lane?"

"Santana I have been around school children a lot longer than you, I can tell when someone is making up stories,"

Santana sighed, she may have had her own quirky problems with OCD but you could never get anything passed Ms Pillsbury.

"I need a favour," Santana asked.

Ms Pillsbury frowned, "Sure Santana I haven't seen you in years, since…." She cleared her throat and Santana knew she was referring to Mr Schuester's funeral, "But I love your music, so why not,"

Santana instantly felt bad. Christ why hadn't she come home sooner, she'd left people behind. Fair enough spread your wings, but at least come back to the nest every once and while to make sure the ones who couldn't fly were still okay.

"What can I help you with?"

"I need a copy of the 2010/11 Senior Yearbook, I know they were distributed to the seniors, but I've lost mine and I was wondering if I could have the copies the school keeps,"

Emma frowned, "The librarian told me they'd all been checked out the other day,"

Santana stilled, "By who?"

"Well the invoice says Pierce, I presumed maybe it had been Miss Brittany Pierce's but I couldn't be sure,"

Santana wanted to scream but Emma Pillsbury still seemed so frail anything over a mid-range octave would probably send her running for the hills.

"Santana Coach Sylvester mentioned the circumstances and I just wanted to offer my condolences, if there is anything I can do,"

Santana looked at her, there was fire in her eyes, "If Zoe Pierce comes here, comes looking for you or you see her, do not say a word. Turn her away. And tell her, that when Santana Lopez finally gets her hands on her, she's going to _patear la mierda de ella_, because that's how it's done in lima heights adjacent,"

Emma did nothing but nod.

**. . .**

Santana loved running, there was something about her heart pounding in her ears, and her feet pounding the pavement, that made her feel like she was running the length of the world. Then she had her iPod with back to back Amy Winehouse songs and she could just run forever. She didn't get enough time back in New York, but here in Ohio, the sun shone, the sky beat down on her face and the air never felt better. Everything was going great until a tree branch came literally out of nowhere and she went sprawling into the side of someone's gardenias.

"God dammit," Santana said angrily, picking herself up from the bushes.

"Are you okay?"

_Oh god that voice._

As Santana managed to brush the flower petals from where they had stuck to her tights, locate her iPod from where it had been ripped from her ears, and gather her senses, the colour drained from her face when she saw Brittany standing just beside the pavement.

"Hi," she murmured.

_Be calm, Santana, be calm, you're an old school friend, an old school friend who just so happens to know how to make you com…._

"You're up early," Brittany offered.

_We were always up early, you made me breakfast, I made you coffee, I'd kiss you until we were both late for work._

"Yeah I like to keep in shape,"

Brittany nodded, brushing her hands down the side of her jeans, she was nervous and unsure and Santana just wanted to wrap her up and hold her.

"Out for a walk?"

She nodded, "My cousin is at work, and so is Artie, usually they like to be around me at all time, just needed some time to myself really,"

_Santana walk away, play the part, and walk away._

"I'll let you get back to it then,"

"Wait," Brittany said, gingerly taking a step forward, "You clearly took a bad fall, so I think someone should buy you coffee?"

Kindness. Brittany's kindness was going to be the death of her. _Fucking kiss me_.

"I was just thinking about coffee,"

Brittany laughed, "It's a date then,"

To Brittany that one line meant nothing, it was harmless and something shared between two old school friends, or colleagues or anyone in general.

To Santana those words stung in every single place inside her.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, end road_

People always say that your life moves on and changes after high school, you grow up and learn to deal with the world based on the ideas that have matured you. Truth be told, this really isn't the case, because high school is exemplified in everything. You'll always have people with their own ideas talking about how you don't fit the puzzle. Maybe that's why Santana loved being a part of Glee Club so much, because it was a chance to be someone, a chance to belong somewhere, when everyone else around them told them they didn't. She didn't know how to tell her classmates that she was gay. She didn't know how to tell them she was in love with Brittany and she wanted her to be her girlfriend. Would they be disgusted? Turn around and tell them that they didn't belong in a group that didn't fit in themselves? Britts was so defiant to scream it from the rooftops but Santana wanted to hide. Why the hell was she so scared? She was never scared. Maybe it was because she didn't want to be a double outcast. Outcast squared? What the hell was that?

"Can I speak to you?"

Santana closed her locker door more forcefully than she had intended, probably because Brittany had broken in earlier this morning and taped a picture of them kissing to the inside door. Santana eyed Kurt standing next to her. He was leaning on the lockers, arms crossed, smiling at her. She swore that by the end of graduation she was going to start referring to him as a _she_, he could pass so easily as a girl, Santana wondered why she had never been attracted to him.

"Kurt if this is about Graduation speeches, I don't want to know. I have nationals for Cheerio's and Glee and I can't think about anything else" she responded glaring at him.

"I know what's going on Santana,"

Santana eyed him, holding her books to her chest as a somewhat guard.

"Karofsky let me in on a little secret the other day,"

Santana raised her eyebrows, "That he's gay? As if you didn't know that already,"

"Oh I knew that, what I found incredibly interesting was the reasoning behind your little date a few weeks back, if you can actually call handholding a date. I'm presuming you are familiar with the term beards?"

Santana felt her stomach drop, realizing that the books were sliding from her hands; Kurt pushed them back up into her arms.

"You're gay," he said flatly.

Santana reeled at him, "Listen Kurt-astical, if you so much as,"

"And," he interrupted, "You are in love with Brittany,"

Santana stared at him for what seemed like hours, she couldn't speak, she couldn't move, it was almost like she was trapped in this bubble of air that was hell bent on keeping her from running away.

"For god's sake Santana, I have been out of the closet, proudly assuming my _born this way_ status for over two years,"

"Kurt, please,"

"Why are you hiding Santana? Why would you keep this from us? We're you're friends aren't we? For crying out loud we go shopping together! I'm offended you haven't said anything,"

Santana looked down briefly, "I don't want everyone to talk behind my back,"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "And you don't think that this won't happen to everyone and anyone? People talk about the most stupid things Santana, you know this. You were the one doing it half the time!"

"Exactly," she retorted her voice rising before she realized she was almost making a scene.

"I have been the worst to half the people in this school, and you don't think that they'll jump at the chance to pay me back?"

Kurt frowned slightly, "Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe it doesn't matter what everyone else will say. That maybe it just comes down to how this will affect the one person that matters?"

Santana eyed him, "I think we've established that this is going to affect me,"

"No," he sighed sharply, "Stop being so selfish Santana, how the hell do you think this this going to affect Brittany?"

Santana felt those erratic heart palpitations coming on again, after the mention of her name.

"She broke up with Artie, more than likely because she loves you too I presume?"

"Have you installed big brother cameras in my house?"

Kurt rolled his eyes again, "It does not take a genius to assume the both of you have been up and down about where you stand since school cut out last year,"

"Things have just been really hard at home, okay, I don't need…"

"You need Brittany," he interrupted, and he placed one hand on his hip in defiance, "and at the rate you're going, you are going to end up with no Brittany at all,"

Santana allowed him to shove past her, as she stood like some helpless little sheep with no Shepard to guide her home. The bell was ringing, but all Santana could hear was her heart racing a million miles an hour.


	25. Chapter 24

Little Readers!

You guys make me smile with all your feedback… thankyou. Really it's great.

I know you're kind of on an emotional rollercoaster right now, and everything seems like dooms town, but I promise it will get better.

I'll try to be as frequent with my updates, but I'm jumping on a plane to Spain tomorrow and I don't know how my wireless will go…

For now, be brave :)

My love to you querida's!

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 24<strong>

_I need you to guide her back to me_

* * *

><p>"THE BALL! GET THE FREAKING BALL!"<p>

Santana sat back down in the stands as Brittany laughed and clapped her hands.

"Titans supporter hey?"

_Actually we haven't been to a football game since college, we're into hockey now._

"Massive supporter," Santana grinned.

Brittany looked down at her lap, picking pieces of popcorn and putting them in her mouth.

God she was just eating and Santana wanted to jump on her. This is what Rachel had meant, slowly make Brittany find their love, slowly show her that she needed Santana. It was like a small game, Santana would show up at the coffee house every morning, and nearly all of those mornings, Brittany was there, sitting in the corner, bathing in the early sunlight and reading the menu. As though she was trying to relearn words that seemed so familiar. Santana would sit down and Brittany would smile, and then Santana would just let her speak. She'd mentioned the accident briefly, but mostly they talked about small things, like how milk swirled in coffee if it was fresh. How you could never have too much chocolate on a cappichino, how clouds changed shapes even if you couldn't see them. Start small, Santana would always repeat in her head, start small and finish the race. Brittany mentioned Artie constantly, she mentioned how he complimented her, read to her before the went to sleep. She talked about how he was in a wheelchair and sometimes it scared her to think that she might have left him. Santana couldnt bring herself to tarnish him. Brittany was so compassionate, it was all she could do not to sit there and just stare at her the whole time. Stare at her lips, stare at her eyes, stare at the small scar on her forehead.

During those weeks in the hospital, Santana had been scared of that wound, that scar. She had wanted to make it disappear. But now looking at it, was like looking at a sign that said Brittany had survived. It mapped out the very fact, Brittany was still here, and even if Santana was waiting, at least she found comfort in the knowledge, that despite distance, and staring from a far, Santana could hear her breathe again.

"It was nice of Zoe and Artie to let you have a night out," she said. _God the Titans sucked_. They'd sucked back in high school, they suck now.

Brittany shifted slightly, "They don't really know I'm here,"

Santana beamed, _that's my girl, sneak out to come to a football game with me_.

Before Santana could answer Rachel bounded up the bleachers to sit beside them.

"Sorry, Dads would not let Quinn go; I swear they love her more than me,"

"Rachel don't be ridiculous," Quinn snorted, arriving behind her with drinks.

As they both saw Brittany, Santana immediately saw it in their eyes; they just wanted to embrace her. She could see them both fighting the urge so hard and she knew she needed to help them.

"Rachel, Quinn, this is my…."

"Friend Brittany,"

Santana melted at the way Brittany had finished her sentence.

"Brittany these are my friends Rachel and Quinn,"

Rachel sat down next to Quinn and leant across her, extending her hand, "it's very nice to meet you,"

Brittany shook it, and then tilted her head at Quinn, "You look so familiar,"

Santana choked on the popcorn, and Quinn came to her rescue. "I went to McKinley High, maybe we crossed paths,"

Brittany frowned, "Yeah maybe,"

"TITANS!" Rachel squealed, pumping her fist in the air.

Quinn leant into her ear, "baby we hate the titans,"

"Shhhh," Rachel responded, "I'll do that thing to you later if you just play on this team for a while,"

Quinn flushed and immediately chanted "DEFENCE"

"Are they a couple?" Brittany asked beside Santana.

She looked at her, "Yes they are,"

Santana had always wondered when this would come up; the idea that maybe there was more to the world than just boys and girls, birds and bees.

"They make a really nice couple," she smiled.

_So do we_ she thought handing her the popcorn.

**. . .**

Death will rear its head more often than not in your lifetime, sometimes it will be people you barely know, other times it will be someone you love, despite how closely chained you were, that loss never really gets any easier, we just adapt and learn to cope. After Brittany's parent's death, Santana wasn't so sure she could cope with anything like that again. She had watched the grief as it attached itself to Brittany for as long as she could stand it, and then finally when healing wrapped its arms around her, she found some comfort in the knowledge that one day she'd see them again. So many people are so scared of death itself, Santana can't understand why it's not time people are afraid of, death is inevitable isn't it? It's time that is too short.

The call had come in the middle of the night, two years ago, when things had only just managed to settle back down again. Rachel had been on the other line sobbing.

"He's dead San,"

Santana had shot up in the middle of the night, whilst Brittany stirred beside her,

"What?" she had mumbled, "Rachel what's going on?"

"Mr Schuester," she had cried, "Mr Schuester is dead,"

The walls had caved in around her, and suddenly nothing had made sense.

Before Mr Schuester's funeral, Rachel had procrastinated and talked incessantly about how she had no clue what the hell she was going to say. She needed to be strong for Emma Pillsbury who had just lost her husband. Rachel wanted to know how she was supposed to write the eulogy of a 41 year old man who had died of a heart attack. Just like that Mr Schuester had been _here _sending them all Christmas cards and then suddenly he was gone. None of it made any sense. Back then, Santana hadn't had any of the answers, because how do you sum up the life of a man who had helped to educate yours? What words could possibly help all your school friends on one of the saddest days of their lives. How do you say goodbye to someone you thought was invincible?

Rachel had decided on the plane flight over that the pressure to read the eulogy was too much. She decided she wasn't going to say anything at all, then changed her mind, then changed it back. In the end, Rachel wrote something down the morning of, sobbing in her Dads' bathroom; whilst Santana rubbed her back and Brittany tried desperately to fix her makeup. They had each been shattered, Christ even Puck cried. Mr Schuester hadn't just been their teacher; he had been someone who pushed them in all the right directions. He had guided them to achieve all their right dreams, and he'd never once asked for anything in return.

When Layla and Michael had died, Brittany grieved in hiccups. She was fine most days. She let them go, because she had to do all the things she needed to do in her life. But then, every couple of weeks, she would hiccup. Suddenly Brittany would be sobbing in Santana's lap telling her that her parents were there, sitting on top of her chest, she couldn't breathe and she couldn't move and all Santana could think was, _Oh thank god. She's still a normal human being. Her parents died, and she's crying, and this is what grieving is._

Santana did the same thing with the death of Mr Schuester. He was the one person who sat her down and told her that whoever she wanted to be, she could do it. No matter how many different things she wanted to do, she was allowed to, and he would support her. He would support her because he believed in her. At the funeral and the weeks after upon her return to New York, Santana got worried when she would think about Mr Schuester and not cry, she worried about what that said about the calibration of her heart – she'd lost someone who meant so much to her and then she had two weeks of dry eyes. She would worry that she was getting over it too fast. That she was cold and hard and somehow she was lacking something she should have been born with. But then just like Britt she would hiccup and start to cry and feel the tightening in her chest. She mourned her teacher; she mourned the man who had told her, that her dreams were worthy. But maybe that's what life is, you lose people you don't want to, but then if you look hard enough, you can find them in the dreams they leave behind.

Santana sat down in front of Mr Schuester's gravestone. The air was crisp; it stroked her skin like the weather was offering her a hug. The cemetery was peaceful, cluttered with oak trees and gravestones with names of people that had moved on. Santana set the yellow poppies in the soil beside her, and then trailed her hand over the brass name plate.

"Hey Mr Schue," she whispered.

Santana sat for a while, staring at his name, remembering all the things he had taught them. About how Glee Club was a family, about how they were supposed to be there for each other in the moments that mattered. Had she not been there enough for Artie? What about Finn, he'd packed up and moved to Canada before college had started and no one except Kurt had heard a word from him. Was he still nursing a broken heart? Was Artie still nursing a broken heart? Is that why he was so intent on going along with everything Zoe had planned?

"Mr Schue," Santana said, "Do you remember the day Brittany and I admitted we were together, and you said through everything, you would support us,"

She paused watching a leaf as it floated from the sky and settled just beside her.

"I need your help Mr Schue; I need you to help Britt remember that day, that was the day our lives really began,"

There's reassurance in cemeteries, there's something about being amongst the lost souls of the earth. So many people fail to realise the comfort that comes from sitting with people that have settled amongst the clouds. You're here, they're up there, but everyone is connected. We're connected by all the feelings and motions we each go through on earth.

"I miss you Mr Schue," Santana whispered.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, high school is ending_

"Brittsticks," Santana said, as she found her by their locker.

Brittany struggled slightly to fit the three text books into her locker before closing it.

"Britt," Santana said again, searching for her eyes.

Brittany looked at her sighing as she brought her remaining books to her chest, like a shield. Santana sensed this unwanted urgency to snap at her for blocking her.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

Brittany raised her eyebrows, "I'm avoiding you? Santana you've barely said anything to me all week, and every time I reach out to you, you flinch or pull away,"  
>Santana opened her mouth to protest but Brittany cut her off.<p>

"Have I done something wrong? I know things are weird with your mum and everything, but when we were in the car, what I did…Did I do it the wrong way? You haven't let me touch you since the other night in the car,"

Santana felt her insides melt; _how could she be so cruel?  
><em>

"Did it feel wrong? I mean I thought it felt good, it sounded like it felt good..."

Santana couldn't take it anymore; she had denied who she was for so long, but to force Brittany into thinking that she had done the wrong thing that was something Santana could not handle.

She leaned into her, moving her barricade of books and arms and pulling her closer.

"I love you," she whispered.

Brittany frowned and Santana realized that she had probably confused her even more.

"Santana, you're making people stare," she said softly.

"Good," she replied smiling.

Santana trailed her hand up to Brittany cheek and pulled her lips into hers.

It had never been about sex, it had never been about experimentation, because for everything that felt right, they had always waited.

_This was about how she felt. _

_How they felt_.

And god Santana loved her more than she loved the world itself.

Brittany pulled away slightly, to catch her breath.

"I think half the school has walked passed us," she whispered, smiling.

"The whole world could walk passed us and I'd still want to kiss you longer,"

Santana leant forwards again, running her tongue along Brittany's lips before laughing.

"Am I actually witnessing the first signs of PDA?"

Santana pulled away, as Kurt stood standing before them, his eyes wide.

"Kurt," Santana pleaded.

"Oh don't go and tell me I was imagining your make out session by the lockers,"

Brittany smiled, "No it's real," she looked gently at Santana, biting her lip.

Kurt smiled, "About time,"

Mr Schuester was sitting by the piano, laughing as Rachel demanded Finn take off his shoes because they made him dance worst then he did already.

"Finn, we want to win nationals, it's in five days," she trailed off as her eyes glazed over, "Which means New York in five days,"

Mercedes squealed in delight beside her, "Oh lady we are going to have bagels and hotdogs and then sing Vocal Adrenaline off the charts,"

Mr Schuester laughed, "Calm down we still have work to do!"

"Mike!" he called, "chairs are for sitting not head stands!"

Santana and Brittany entered the room behind Kurt, who quickly took a seat, crossed his legs, and glared at Rachel. Rachel's intuition blew Santana away, it was like she was this _feelings GPS navigator_, she could pick important moments, years before they'd even happened.

"Mr Schuester," Santana said shyly, "Brittany and I have something to say,"

"Don't you dare say you're quitting Glee Club," Tina said whirling around from where she had been fixing the guitar strap on Puck's guitar.

"No," Brittany responded shaking her head.

_This is it Santana, now or never_.

"Everyone. I'm in love with Britt, and she's in love with me, and I just wanted to let you all know before I ask her…" she turned carefully to Brittany who was staring at her as though she couldn't actually believe Santana was going through with this. "…ask her to be my girlfriend," Santana finished.

"For the love of all things Barbra Streisand say, YES!" Rachel screamed.

For the most part, Glee Club had gone silent, the silence killed Santana, _say something, anything_.

"Well this makes so much more sense now," Mercedes interjected finally, "San, I was so concerned when I thought you were dating Karofsky, you and Britts are good together,"

_Santana melted. _

Mr Schuester clapped his hands, "You never had to hide this girls, this is a good thing, love is a good thing," he paused smiling, "I am very proud of how brave you're being,"

"Brave?" Puck spat, standing up and kicking the chair to the side of the room.

He looked at Artie, "Artz, did you know about this?"

Artie shook his head; his eyes were squarely on his legs.

"What the hell Santana?" Puck reared angrily, "We're supposed to be friends, and you couldn't even tell me this?"

"Puck," she said softly.

"No," he said, "This is wrong. You both disgust me,"

He stormed out of the room and Santana went to run after him.

"Wait," Quinn spoke up, "Let me go,"

She brushed passed Santana stopping briefly to look at them, "Its okay," she whispered, "I think most of us knew all along,"


	26. Chapter 25

Holla Little Readers!

Man what a whirlwind the last 23 hours have been!

So the girl sitting on the plane next to me was called Rachel (damn what are the odds hey).

Basically I'm camped in a little bungalow right now, and I managed to convince some French exchange student that it was imperative he lend me his Wi-Fi and low and behold we have another update.

Oh what I do for you guys!

Anyway I'm off to find some chaos in Madrid… update soon!

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 25<strong>

_The web they weave, is nothing compared to the threads that tie us_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

"Kurt you need to actually calm down before I will understand you," Rachel said into the receiver. "Quinn old lady! Old lady crossing the road!"

The van pulled to a sudden stop and Santana nearly went flying through the dashboard.

"Sorry," Quinn muttered "I hate stick I've never been good at it,"

"No Kurt we are not having play dates at a nursing home,"

Rachel drew her attention away from the phone for a moment to side speak to Santana and Quinn, "Kurt met Beyoncé," she smiled and Santana laughed.

"Quinn!" Rachel screamed again, "Red light!"

"Oh my god Rachel this is your fault for thinking we could pick up the stage equipment ourselves! We're driving a van that should read _1800 imma kidnap you_,"

"Oh your being dramatic," Rachel replied airily, "We're women! We don't need men for jobs like these!"

"And they said feminism was dead!" Santana quipped.

Quinn smirked.

"No Kurt," Rachel said again, "No we're not kidnapping Zoe in a van,"

"I wish," Santana huffed.

"Kurt I'm hanging up because Quinn is driving erratically,"

Quinn huffed before driving straight over a pot hole.

"God Q!" Santana yelped. _Bruises on bruises_ she was sure of it.

"No!" Rachel was saying again, "I said only feed Nemo twice a day, oh my god Kurt please don't kill Nemo!"

Santana watched the clipboard tumble across the other side of the dashboard as Quinn rounded the corner a little too quickly.

"Okay…yes….thankyou….you too… kisses"

Santana stared at her as she hung up "That boy! You don't realise how much you miss him until he springs back into the same time zone as you and then you're forced apart from him again,"

Santana inhaled she missed Kurt like she would miss summer in winter.

Quinn pulled the van into a space jut beside an old warehouse.

"I don't like this idea," she said flatly.

"Yes well these props are expensive. I've had them especially flown here and I don't trust some Ohio pick up boys to deliver them,"

"And the schools okay with you harbouring everything in the auditorium?"

"Well," Rachel stammered, "Technically I own the auditorium but..."

"But what?" Santana quizzed, narrowing her eyes.

"I may or may not have slipped some vodka into Sue Sylvester's coffee before asking her the other day,"

"Rachel!" Quinn rounded "god this is worse than you convincing our landlord you were a Jewish countess,"

Rachel flushed "It's for the arts!"

Quinn eyed her incredulously, "It's always for the arts Rachel," she responded and she pushed out of the vehicle slamming the door behind her.

"I infuriate her don't I?"

"You infuriate everyone," Santana replied, "That's why we love you,"

Rachel huffed, piling out of the vehicle so Santana could crawl out from where she had been wedged in the middle. Rachel opened the sliding doors to the van.

"The transportation guys said they would leave everything in a stack out the back, flex your muscles ladies,"

"Rach I don't understand how the three of us are meant to do this in the space of two hours,"

"We have to," Rachel said and she removed the rolling metal door of the warehouse, staring as it shot upwards with a crunch.

Dust sprayed in Quinn's face, "Rachel!" she sounded angrily.

"Sorry baby," she mouthed.

Quinn stalked inside, as the sunlight lit up the warehouse.

They located the corner the tradesmen had been talking about, namely because Santana could literally see New York's attractions presented in separate cardboard cut-outs.

"Sue is on afternoon detention duty, but she'll close the school gates at 5, so two hour limit,"

Santana stared at all the stage equipment piled in front of them, "Rachel we didn't even have to do this heavy lifting in Glee Club,"

Rachel looked at her with a pout, "San please,"

"Do it Santana, what Rachel wants Rachel gets,"

_Damn Quinn must be really annoyed_, Santana watched as she hauled part of a building into her arms and began to carry it out of the warehouse.

"Rachel," Santana said, as she eyed the statue of liberty, "Go apologize,"

"What for?"

"For being infuriating!"

Quinn was already back in the building before Rachel had even worked out what she was apologizing for.

"You know I have a catalogue due don't you? And instead of finishing the catalogue I'm here hauling stage equipment that we could have hired professional people to do,"

Rachel looked at her sheepishly, "I know you do, which is why I called the museum and asked them if you could turn it over next week, because that way we would have the weekend together. My Dads thought it might be nice to go to dinner,"

Damn Rachel was so good Santana wanted to know where it all came from.

Quinn stopped hauling more building props out from the corner.

"You spoke to the museum?"

"Well yes Quinn, I know the projects you work on, I look through them when you're sleeping. I love your current photo montage baby; I never knew Brooklyn housed so many walls of graffiti,"

Santana moved clear out of Quinn's way as she rushed to kiss Rahcel.

"Christ", she said, "Get a room!"

Quinn pulled the side of a building cut out from up off the floor and stuck it in front of them. Santana smirked at the sounds of Rachel giggling behind it.

"I love you," Quinn was repeating in between kisses.

Santana continued to take props out to the van, until Rachel and Quinn resumed with her.

Once they had piled the van it was five forty five.

"Does this mean I have to floor it?" Quinn asked starting the engine.

Santana gulped, "Dear god, I promise to eat green vegetables if you..."

She didn't even finished, because Rachel pushed down the stick and told Quinn if she didn't get to the school in fifteen minutes they were never having sex again.  
>Santana had never felt more car sick in her life.<p>

**. . .**

"Cher called, she wants her face back!"

The student quivered slightly before sliding half way down the sit to miss a textbook being hurtled at her.

"Oh god she hasn't changed," Quinn whispered as they stood outside the detention room.

"This feels weird" Santana replied.

The three of them, standing in McKinley High's hallways; six years after graduation, still trembling from Sue Sylvester.

"Ms Sylvester," Rachel asked opening the door and popping her head in.

"Rachel", Quinn hissed, she hadn't had the chance to stop her.

"Shaft? What brought you out from underground?"

Sue moved from the desk and pushed Rachel back out the door.

"Little bird and sandbags, well isn't this a gay reunion,"

Santana rolled her eyes, "We're dropping the props into the auditorium,"

"Have you got insurance, it would be a shame if someone was to light it on fire and the whole production would be in ruins,"

Rachel gave one of her mortified looks before regaining herself, "Yes Ms Sylvester, even my stationary is insured,"

_100% true.  
><em>  
>After twenty minutes of convincing Sue to give them the keys, they were finally unloading the damn van. Santana felt her phone vibrate in her jacket pocket, and she managed to retrieve it just as she and Quinn put the side of the empire state building against the wall. She stilled at the name on the screen.<p>

"Brittany?" She answered.

_When did you get your phone back?  
><em>

"Santana?"

_Oh my god what's wrong?  
><em>

"Are you okay," Santana asked urgently.

Rachel had stopped tickling Quinn to look at her.

"I'm fine, I just found my phone in Zoe's bedroom, I was looking for a pen and here this phone is,"

She sounded so confused and worried Santana was concerned something bad had happened.

"Santana why are you stored under a love heart in my phone?"

Santana stilled.

What the hell was she supposed to say to that? _Oh I don't know maybe because we're getting married. Christ the kissing photos!  
><em>

"We were friends weren't we, you weren't just my school captain,"

_Oh baby, I wasn't your still captain, Quinn was.  
><em>

Santana still didn't know what the hell to say and Rachel was staring at her so intently it was not helping with her train of thought.

"Can we go for coffee?"

"Yes," Santana muttered, "Meet me there?"

Brittany hung up.

"Tell me!" Rachel nearly screamed, her and Quinn were standing so close to her, Santana felt like there was literally no air left in the room.

"Brittany found her phone," Santana murmured.

Rachel jumped up and down for a moment, "Oh San that's a good thing!"

"Good thing?" Santana muttered, "Rachel she's already so confused over everything. Zoe has kept her phone from her all this time!"

"Go," Quinn said urgently, "Go to her Santana,"

"Q, how the hell are you and Rachel going to get back?"

Rachel waved her hand, "We'll ask Sue,"

"Or," Quinn responded biting her lips, "We could just stay after hours in the janitors closet, with those broomsti..."

"I'm already gone," Santana muttered, running from the stage and down the steps. The last thing she heard was Rachel yelling something between _so turned on_ and _don't step on the fake cab cut out!_

God she looked so adorable. She was wearing that old sweater from college. The one Santana had hated at first but then Britt had explained all the reasons why it reminded her of Santana. _It's warm like you_ she had said, _its red and fiery like your attitude_, _it has a love heart, which reminds me of what I feel for you._

"Hi," she said sitting down.

Brittany had already ordered her a coffee. Santana nearly choked up.

_Fuck you remembered what I like._

Brittany didn't say anything at first she just pushed the phone towards her. Santana picked it up expecting to see all these images that Brittany was confused over.  
>She looked at the phone and had the urge to commit murder. Scrolling through the phone, all these images of old photos of Brittany and Artie suddenly rushed at her face. There were no photos of Santana.<p>

"It's so strange," Brittany said, "I look so young in those photos, there's nothing from right now, it's like I haven't updated anything since high school,"

_Yes because that bitch erased your phone and manipulated everything to seem as though you and me never had a life together.  
><em>

Santana moved to the contacts, the anger boiled even more as she realised that Rachel and Quinn's number had both been deleted.

"Did I have friends?" Brittany asked suddenly, "I mean why are you under a heart Santana?"

Santana looked at her, the one thing Zoe hadn't been able to erase, or she hadn't found, was Santana's number. _That's right bitch.  
><em>

"You're stored in a completely separate section of my contacts, did we speak often?"

"We were... are friends," Santana stumbled.

Brittany leaned back, "So you're not just the school captain, Zoe lied to me,"

_YES_

Brittany sighed, "She's really taking the doctor's advice in going all out in helping me to remember properly and slowly,"

_What? no, no  
><em>

Santana didn't get the chance to say anything,

"Brittany?"

She knew that voice, that voice was the same one she wanted to bash.

Artie had rolled into the coffee house, he maneuvered through the tables and was staring from Santana to Brittany.

"Artz," Brittany smiled, "You got off work early,"

"I did, what are you doing?"

"Having coffee with her friend," Santana reared, she stared at him and she could see the fear instil in his eyes.

"Well come on Britt, say goodbye, we have to get home, Zoe is making dinner,"

Santana literally wanted to punch him, he was acting as if this was the way things were, this was a lie, this was an all-out lie.

"Okay I'll be back, I just have to pay," she got up and made her way over to the counter.

Santana rounded on him before he had the chance to back away.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Artie shrugged, "You stole her from me first, I'm just stealing her back,"

"You're sick," she said angrily, "If you think I will stop, think again,"

"You'll have to soon enough Santana,"

"Oh yeah try me, you can erase her phone, you can make up memories, and leave out other ones, but you'll never stop the real memories coming back, you won't be able to stop that,"

"I don't have to," he shrugged, "Brittany is falling in love with me again, soon she won't want to leave,"

"Oh yeah stubbles, and what happens if I just go up to her right now and tell her that in actual fact she's marrying me,"

"She won't believe you,"

"You don't know that,"

"Zoe had the talk with her,"

"What talk?"

"She said that Brittany's parents died on the way back from church. They had only gone there, because Brittany had admitted to possibly being gay and they hated it,"

Santana stilled completely, she felt the vile rise up in her stomach like this sickness that the world can't seem to let go.

He shrugged, "Brittany thinks that her parents died because she was trying to be gay, it makes sense to her that she's with me,"

Santana clawed his collar and reefed him forward, "You asshole, do you have any idea what you've done. Her parent's death was an accident. They would have accepted Brittany as anything. You're going to sit by and let her believe she had part in the death of her parents, just to be with her. Which is all fake anyway?"

Artie pushed her off, "I'll do anything Santana, and Zoe likes me, we've built a family for Britt,"

"A family!" Santana snarled, "You've seen her once or twice in the last six years! You don't fucking know her,"

"She's still the same Brittany," he retorted.

"Ready?"

Santana stopped seething at him, as Brittany approached them again.

She placed her hands on the bars of Artie's wheelchair, ready to wheel him out.

"I'll see you tomorrow Santana?"

"Actually," Artie interjected, "I have tomorrow off, I thought you and me could spend the day together,"

Santana shot him a look,

"Okay," Brittany shrugged, "I'll see you when I see you Santana," she gave a slight wave before pushing Artie away.

Santana didn't even look at him, all her eyes were focused on, was the fact she'd only just noticed Brittany had put an engagement ring on her finger, and it wasn't the one that she had given her.

Santana felt her heart quite literally shatter.

. . .

"Santana," Tina reasoned, as Santana stormed through the cupboards, "San, I do not have those old voodoo dolls,"

"I need one, preferably with a detachable set of wheels" she replied, rummaging through Tina's desk draws.

Tina sighed exasperatingly, "Santana this is my office, you can't just barge in here..."

"I want to make him pay,"

Tina folded her arms briefly, "San you don't know..."

"No this is what I do know, you ready?" she stood still raised her hand and began to count on her hand. "Zoe has made a list of fake memories for Brittany to remember. Zoe and Artie have made Brittany believe that she is marrying him. Zoe has erased all memory of me on Britts phone. She's manipulated everything around Brittany to let her believe that she really is engaged to Artie. And to top all this off, Artie has made her wear an engagement ring."

She paused, "Where the fuck is the ring I gave her?"

Before Tina could even usher another word, Santana started seething all over again, "I swear to god if she's thrown away that ring..."

"Santana!" Tina cut her off, "Stop, just stop, please your making a scene,"

Santana eyed the rest of the clinic, as they glared at her.

"I'm sorry T," she murmured.

"Sit," Tina muttered, holding out the chair.

_Medical receptionist, who would have thought.  
><em>

"Now speak properly and coherently so I can fathom what Artie is playing at,"

"He thinks that I stole Britt originally and this is why and how he is getting her back,"

"Yes but surely he realises that all this isn't real,"

Santana bit her lip, "Quinn said the same thing,"

Tina handed her half a tuna sandwich, "Eat" she said, "You're getting too skinny again,"

"I am not..."

"Eat" she repeated and Santana begrudgingly put the sandwich in her mouth.

"I can't believe they re-wrote how her parents died,"

"Christ" Tina responded, "Don't go through this again, it's disturbing, this is so unlike Artie, he was such a sweet boy back in high school,"

"He's like Dr Octagon,"

Tina raised her eyebrows, "Santana please I dated Mike for three years, I cannot stand comic character references,"

"It's true,"

Tina rolled her eyes, "No what is true, is that Brittany is being manipulated,"

"and I don't know that…" Santana replied sarcastically.

"Scene!" Tina reminded, and Santana lowered her voice again.

"Where do I go from here T, seriously, Brittany thinks being gay is a sin, she thinks Artie is her finance and Zoe has her best interests at heart, where do I fit in?"

"You've fit in all along San," she replied, "that's the whole point, look I've been looking at amnesia cases on the internet, it's really important that you don't forcefeed memories, otherwise you come undone,"

"Yes but..."

"Shut it," she cut her off, _enough was enough_ apparently, "Zoe and Artie are making Brittany remember things that were never there in the first place. Sooner or later one of them is going to stuff up. A lie can only go for so long San, until the web suddenly falters and then all the threads fall to pieces,"

"Unless the lie is so good that it becomes the truth,"

Tina stared at her, "Don't say that San,"

"Look me in the eye and tell me it's not a possibility,"

Santana's hairs stood up on the back of her neck, when Tina looked away.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open you're eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Senior Year, Graduation_

"I am going to vomit,"

"Rachel" Santana said gripping her shoulders, "Stop, you can do this, for god's sake you sung us through nationals to win,"

"Graduation speech Santana, this has to be embedded in people's minds for complete eternity, I would sing Nationals all over again"

This was quite true, winning Nationals for Cheerio's and then heading straight to New York on this impossible high, to then win Glee nationals was quite possibly the proudest moment in Santana's life. She'd achieved something, she had actually achieved something.

Santana moaned, "Jesus Berry I swear to god one day if you don't get an Tony for your acting skills I don't know what we'll do,"

Rachel beamed, "Oh San, you've finally worked out how to compliment me,"

Kurt poked his head through the girl's bathroom, "Ready?" he grinned.

Santana smirked at his red robes, and the mortarboard cap as it sat precariously on his little pixie face.

Rachel shoulder's slumped and Santana didn't know how the hell to make her nerves disappear.

_Enter the one thing that could_.

"Rachel Berry," Quinn snapped, glancing in the mirror and fixing her hair, "If you don't get your shit together, I'll call Barbara Streisand and tell her you ruined her number one hit at Nationals,"

"Excuse me Fabray I sung that with such precision and timing I had the judges in tears and a standing ovation…" she stopped midway between sentence; realising what Quinn had done.

"Exactly," Quinn smiled, "You brought everyone to their feet Rachel. Now for God's sake we need our MVP to stand up and represent us,"

Santana looked at Quinn. She wasn't this angry; _everything had to go my way_ teenager anymore. She was this adult, who had stepped down from giving the graduation speech and allowed Rachel to do it, simply because she thought she deserved to. Maybe everything Mr Schuester had taught them had finally paid off.

McKinley High held their Senior Class of 2012 graduation ceremony out in the yards, under the trees and in the sunshine. The day was fine, the weather was warm and the air smelt like pine. Santana stood next to Brittany, their pinkie fingers interlocked, Kurt nudging her every time Principal Figgins had tried to make a joke. She was the only one laughing, and not because he was funny, but because Kurt was making hysterical faces at the same time.

When Rachel entered the stage, everyone went silent. Santana held her eyes on her and she felt Brittany grab onto her whole hand.

_"Today marks the end of an era. Years of books, plays, dances and sports have all led to this gratifying moment. As we, the graduation class of 2012 sit here watching as the last of our high school careers fade with the passing traffic, and nervously await what new adventure tomorrow will bring, it is important that we share a moment to reflect and appreciate the enormity of our fine accomplishment._

_We've always been a very diverse group of people; we have a broad range of interest, talents and activities. After graduation, we'll all be going in different directions. I don't think I am the only one to acknowledge that for a lot of us High School hasn't always been perfect and idyllic. I'm not going to start on the amount of slushies I went through…"_

Santana smirked as Rachel winked at Quinn,

"_But aside from this I think High school has really been an important time in our lives. There's been a lot of change and growth in all of us over the past two years and I can honestly say that I am proud to be graduating with each and every one of you. I' m glad we've had this time together, before we head into the adult world. I wish all of you good luck in your futures, whatever they are. I hope you can all take advantage of the opportunities ahead of you and grab life with both hands. Make the world remember the McKinley High class of 2012!"_

Rachel paused slightly, standing on her tip toes so she could look out into the crowd. Kurt was already a mess, and so Santana pulled him into her. Brittany giggled and leant into her shoulder.

_"Where we go from here and what new frontiers we are meant to discover may remain unseen, but as we step out of these gates that have sheltered us and we stare into the first lights of what is to come and what is to be, always remember tonight's victory. For no matter what tomorrow brings, be it the simplest path or a road wrought with twists and turns, tonight we share an achievement. Class of 2012, congratulations. Always take with you the memories, the knowledge and the self-satisfaction of a job well done._

_This is Rachel Berry, sing-ing off!"_

Santana was deafened by the roar of her class mates as a sea of red caps floated up into the clouds, like balloons decorating the late afternoon sky.

"Could I get a photo of you and Brittany?"

Santana turned from where she had been hugging Mr Schuester to see her mother behind her. She was wearing her best occasion clothes and holding that damn camera she was meant to replace because it was so old.

"I don't know Mumma," Santana replied, "Are you sure you can even look at us?"

Her mother's shoulder slumped and Santana thought maybe she'd been too harsh,

"Querida I'm sorry," she said, "I don't understand it, but please know I'm trying, Brittany can move back home for the summer, spend the summer at home before college,"

Santana's eyes widened, "What?"

"I was wrong and selfish and I'm sorry San, for everything you put up with me, I should have been more supportive, please, I just want a photo of you and…." She swallowed a moment, "You and your girlfriend on graduation day,"

When her mother took the photo, Santana's smile was possibly the biggest it had even been in her life.

**. . .**

The graduation party was at Breadsticks. Mr Schue had actually paid a tab on the amount of breadsticks coming to the tables. It was literally the best thing ever.

"Has anyone seen Puck?" Finn asked, sliding into one of the booths.

Mike shook his head.

"I'll go look for him," Santana said, hopping over Mercedes. She pushed out into the night air, and twirled slightly on the pavement, looking for him.

Santana eventually found him, sitting on the bonnet of his truck, in the breadsticks car park, the lights of the overhead pass above them, lighting the space dimly.

She made her way over to him and he looked as she approached the vehicle.

"Room for one more?"

Puck slid over on the bonnet and allowed Santana to climb onto the metal.

"Do you remember that night after sophomore finals? We sat on my porch and you pointed out all the constellations you knew of,"

Santana smiled, "and you told me that I had half of them wrong,"

"And the other half you'd made up," he smirked.

Santana grinned.

"I thought that maybe after everything we might have had something on that night,"

Santana wanted to crumble.

"But then I realised that maybe we were just keeping each other company until the right one came along. I was prepared to watch you leave; I just didn't think it would be now,"

"Puck,"

"No listen Santana, I need to say something,"

Santana watched as he turned his entire body to her, turned so he could look at her properly.

"I didn't respect you in the way that I should have,"

"Puck that's so long ago, we've grown…."

"San," he said impatiently and she closed her mouth again.

"_I'm sorry for not supporting you Santana," he reasoned, "It was immature and I'm sorry. I don't care if you're gay, I will always support you, in everything you do,"_

Santana's bottom lip quivered.

"You and Brittany are not disgusting, and I'm sorry for being so damn ignorant I was just in shock. But I will always protect the both of you, I promise,"

There were no words needed, because Santana said everything she needed to say when she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him as tightly as she could.

**. . .**

Santana trailed her tongue down Brittany's torso, moving past her belly button and settling on the three small freckles above her V. God, she had loved these, she had loved making an S with her tongue on top of them, like she was playing connect the dots, and her name was always the answer. Brittany sighed slightly, her body arching upwards, as she reached down to pull Santana back up to her lips.

"I'm playing connect the dots," Santana said pretending to be annoyed.

"Mmmm," Brittany whispered, sinking her teeth into her jaw, "Play with my lips instead,"

Santana liked that idea. In fact any idea that involved her lips on Brittany was pretty much Einstein material.

"San," Brittany said, "I need to tell you something,"

"Yes?"

"I got into Julliard,"

Santana stopped toying with Brittany's earlobe and propped herself above her. She was pretty sure she looked like the biggest dork, because she was literally smiling from ear to ear.

"I know we said we were going to wait until the whole Glee Club meeting to announce everyone's acceptances, but I needed to tell you,"

Santana kissed her; she kissed her for so long and so hard that she managed to strip all the air from Brittany's lungs.

"Brittsticks," she murmured, "I got in too,"


	27. Chapter 26

Little Readers!

I am currently sitting in a little place called _Cafe Gijon_ (still in Madrid). Updating again for you! Sorry for the delay, small adventure involving a crazy Spanish truck driver...dont ask!

I wanted to quickly touch on a point made about Santana telling Brittany everything. It will come within time Little Readers :) the main thing I wanted to do with this story is to explore how or why Santana and Brittany came to fall in love in the first place. Hence the _BACK THEN_ parts are very important to me! So in the mean time go with it...

But your feedback is the most important to me as well. ANYTHING you want to see, hear, NEED me to write...tell me! I'm jumping on a train to Portugal in a day or two... so who knows where I can scavenge for internet... so tell me your ideas now !

All my Love!

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 26<strong>

_Love is love, our love is love baby_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

"Santana," Quinn said pulling the sheet off her head, "Santana I know you're crying,"

"I'm not," she said defensively, "My eyes are just watering, it's the damn dust in the air,"

Quinn looked around Rachel's living room, "San, Rachel's Dads don't believe in dust,"

Santana sighed, wiping her eyes with the corner of the sheet. She stared at all the costumes that had been delivered whilst Rachel was at lunch with Tina and Mike, and instead she and Quinn had been left to sort them.

"I hate crying in front of you Q?"

"Why?"

"Because you're always so strong about everything, it makes me think I should be to,"

Quinn looked at her with this horrified expression, "Is that really how I make you feel?"

Santana shrugged.

"God San, you only think I'm strong because I have my father's stubborn streak, I cry when Rachel is sleeping, I cry because Brittany is my best friend and she doesn't remember me. I cry because not having you together is like not having butter on toast, its bland and just wrong,"

Santana hiccupped slightly.

"Oh San," she replied, sliding across the floor, she pulled her into her arms, "Santana cry with me,"

So they did. They cried, and then they laughed at how hard they were crying, and then they cried some more until there were no more tears left and instead they lay amongst Rachel's feathers and hats and dresses.

Quinn held her hand out to Santana who took it, latching on to it tightly.

"Do you remember that road trip? The summer before college?"

"Santana smirked, "When you got so drunk you slept with Rachel,"

Quinn nodded.

"I was so confused, because even if I was drunk, it had felt so right,"

"It took you four years to even admit anything Q," she pointed out.

Quinn smirked, "Santana listen to the point I'm making,"

Santana shifted slightly, she could feel some sort of pin sticking into her elbow.

"I knew then that I wanted Rachel. It took me a while, but I still knew I wanted her. Brittany will realise that _want_ too. She'll realise it and she'll come back,"

Santana resisted the urge to start crying all over again, "I don't understand how people could be so cruel. Zoe made out as though her being with me was this horrible, horrible thing,"

"There's a word for that San," Quinn reasoned, "It's called homophobia,"

"I hate it," she whispered, "Its sick and disgusting and shouldn't exist,"

Quinn thought on this a moment, "Have you ever heard of how homosexuality is found in over 450 species in this world, but homophobia is just found in one? Says a lot about the human race doesn't"

Santana smiled at _informative Quinn_ now, passionate about anything that she felt wasn't justified in the world enough.

"Santana," she said sternly, "Don't you dare let anyone or anything stand in the way of your ability to love. You don't let anyone dictate who you have the right to love.

That's your decision Santana, it's your decision because it's your life,"

"Q," she smiled, "I know who I am,"

She inhaled a moment, "People are so quick to judge today. They want to shut people down at any possible corner because they're scared of something as being different. It's the people who stand up against this indifference that make the difference. Bold statements San, bold statements make changes,"

Santana grinned, "So I should organize a lesbian rally in Ohio?"

Quinn groaned, "I don't mean that!"

"No you're passionate and determined and an advocate for the rights of everyone Quinn. I love you, and thank you,"

She nodded, pleased, "That bitch can't tell the difference between what is morally correct and what is just plain cruel,"

"I don't know how to make Britt fall in love with me again,"

"You don't need to, just be you," Quinn replied adamantly.

Santana went to protest but Rachel's front door was flung open and she entered with that typical look to suggest the whole world was ending.

"MEASLES!" she yelled, "Mother fu..."

"Rachel," Quinn warned,

"FRIDG-ING MEASLES," she finished.

Quinn frowned and stood up, bushing the feathers from the costumes out of her hair.

"Please don't have the measles, it's so contagious, which means I'll get it, because I can never keep my hands off you,"

"I wish I had the measles," she groaned filing through the mess of Broadway outfits to sit on her father's leather lounge. Santana propped up on her knees.

"Eight of my actors have come down with the measles and signs of the flu. They're not allowed out of the state until medical clearance, which could take more than seven weeks. My show is scheduled in five!"

Santana's jaw slightly dropped, "Christ,"

"This is a complete disaster," Rachel moaned, "Why the measles! Why?"

"Dammit I've already made all the promotional flyers and sent out invitations," Quinn sighed curling beside her, "What are we going to do baby?"

"Q, seven separate networks, including entertainment tonight will be here. Big Broadway blockbuster meets small old town, it's a story, they want it, and how the hell do I now refuse them?"

"Such a shame the Glee Club at McKinley isn't as good as the class of 2012 huh," Santana smirked.

_God almighty__  
><em>

Rachel's eyes lit up, "Santana you genius,"

"No," Quinn said straight away.

"Double no," Santana moaned, regretting the comment almost immediately.

"Why!" Rachel pouted, "It's perfect, a Glee Club reunion! Starring in a Rachel Berry production, oh god the irony makes me shiver,"

Quinn licked her lips at the goosebumps forming along Rachel's smooth skin.

"No," Santana said again, "Rachel have you completely forgotten? We all haven't sung together in six years!"

"Not to mention the fact Puck is in Atlanta, Mercedes is somewhere in Dubai according to Mike and ARTIE!" Quinn rounded.

Rachel looked sheepish, "Well we'll just…"

"And Finn?" Santana asked,

"I don't talk about Finn," Rachel said cutting her off.

"No Rachel we don't talk about Finn, because in your second year of college he came to Yale and proposed to you and you said no, and then he picked up everything and moved to Canada and hasn't spoken to you since," Quinn responded.

Rachel bit her lip, "Precisely, we don't talk about him,"

"And what about Brittany?" Santana asked.

"Exactly," Rachel pleaded, "Oh San can you imagine, can you imagine the types of memory work we could do if she was around us all? Glee Club brought out the best in all of us; Glee Club inspired us through everything!"

Santana crossed her arms, "I'm still saying no,"

Quinn's eyes shone suddenly, "No San, I think Rachel is right,"

"I've course I'm right, I'm alwa…."

Quinn clasped a hand to Rachel's mouth, silencing her.

"Glee Club is where most of our lives came together; I think this is a good idea,"

"And we only need eight actors! Artie doesn't need to be included,"

Santana huffed slightly, "and how are you going to convince Brittany to be in a production without him,"

"I'm not, you are," Rachel responded, "But don't mention anything just yet, let me come up with a plan,"

Santana rolled her eyes, "Okay Rachel but you'll need to convince Puck and Mercedes,"

Rachel waved her hand airily, "Oh they've said yes before they even know about it,"

Quinn rolled her eyes, before pretending to bite her hand.

**. . .**

Santana watched as Brittany stirred the sugar into her coffee. Her eyes were fixated on that engagement ring.

_The one that wasn't hers_.

Maybe she should just tell her. Maybe she should just look at her, tell her the life they had lead before the accident and let Brittany choose which one was the one she wanted.

Before Santana could wrestle with her own heart strings, before she could even understand how she could possibly thread together words that would make Brittany understand, she looked up at her.

"Can I call you San?"

Santana stilled slightly, _where had that come from? _

"If you want,"

Brittany shrugged, "It just feels like something I would have called you, it feels right,"

Without even saying anything directly, Brittany had just told her the sole reason why Santana couldn't lay it all out in front of her; because it needed to _feel right_. They needed to feel right. If they didn't, well then why would Brittany choose her?

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes b, it's me, I've been here all along_

_The Last Summer before College_

_Moments Along the road_

Sometimes you can imagine life like a series of moments strung together like telegraph poles lining a highway heading anywhere at all. Maybe it's the small moments we're all searching for, the ones where we're still seven trying to make friends in the sandpit, we still enjoy jumping in puddles and sliding down the stairs on mattresses. The moments that a fragmented into pieces of hope and trust that we can take with us as we enter the world. Santana packed the rest of the blankets into the back of the Jeep as Brittany spoke to Quinn on the phone.

"I have bug repellent," she said, "No Quinn there are no bears in the woods,"

Santana snorted, closing the hatch of her car before leaning on the vehicle next to Brittany. They'd gotten into Julliard, enrolled into the courses they both had wanted so badly. It had sewn itself together in ways Santana never even thought possible. You don't realise until after you finish high school how much of your existence was sheltered amongst the people you grew up with. Quinn was moving to Los Angeles, going to UCLA; Rachel was going to Yale in less than two months. Puck was already filling out forms to study policing. Kurt had announced he was going to London Institute of Fashion.

London. Kurt was moving to London.

Glee Club had always been diverse, as Rachel had said in her graduation speech. They had all had different talents and different ideas and that's why they had worked so well in high school, but now Santana was wondering how they were all supposed to hold onto these threads in the real world. No one would admit it, but everyone was as scared as each other.

"A road trip," Rachel had suggested as they had sat in Breadsticks the other morning. "Glee Club will go on a road trip, camp out, be young, be free,"

So now after deliberation and sorting people into cars, Quinn was on her way here, Santana was driving the Jeep and Rachel was bringing her Dad's four man tent. Brittany was now literally explaining the difference between brown bears and panda bears.

"Britts," Santana said huffing, "Pandas are in Asia,"

She could here Quinn screaming into the phone that if she was sharing a tent with Rachel Berry she needed ear muffs.

"Do we even know where we'll end up? I mean sure aim for destination Salt Lake City, but randomly stopping at the first camp site we see? Honestly?"

Santana took the phone off Brittany, "Q can you stop being so damn dramatic and get here now; the boys have left already," She hung up and Brittany smirked.

"Rachel and Quinn in a tent? Are we sure we want to do this?"

Santana laughed, pulling her into her arms, "Us in a tent, you sure we want to do this?"

Brittany kissed her, "Always,"

"Girls!"

Santana jumped, _god mother_.

"What?" she called back.

"Will you have mobile phone reception?"

Santana rolled her eyes, "_Ca__lmar __la __mujer!_ Relax! We're only gone for like five days, not a month!"

Maria huffed before storming back inside from the balcony.

"I love when you speak Spanish," Brittany smirked, pulling on Santana tighter.

Before Santana could answer with something that would make her melt, Rachel Berry clambered from her parents Ford Ranger with an oversized tent.

"Help required!" she muttered through stumbles.

Brittany laughed and bounded over to her, hoisting the tent from her little arms and swinging over her shoulders.

"It's pink," Rachel muttered, "I didn't realise,"

Santana groaned.

**. . .**

Santana couldn't resist the call of the open road. Give her a blue highway or an interstate, the autobahn or a muddy path to who-knows-where and she didn't really care where she was going. She had never needed a reasoned to jump in her car and just start driving, no matter how far the distance it didn't matter, because it was always about the distance between _then_ and _now_. Those moments in between; it was always about those moments in between.

As soon as Quinn had piled into the car, Maria had instructed emergency phone numbers and then taken a quick photo, Santana had turned the engine, and all the moments in between had finally arrived. Brittany was beside her, Rachel wrestling with Quinn over the pillow in the backseat and Edward Sharpe keeping them company on the stereo. It was summer and they'd just finished high school and were adrenalized with the implacable belief they could do most anything, if they really wanted.

The windows were rolled down, the air was fresh, and eventually they'd peeled off the congested freeway and were heading through open roads with corn fields to their left and children running down the road, even more buzzed than what they were. Every so often one would call out to the Jeep, wolf whistle or wave from the field.

"Driving to Florida would have been better," Quinn said from the back, straightening her sunglasses, and curling her legs on the seat.

"That's too far, besides the discovery channel had a rather interesting expose on the benefits of visiting Salt Lake City once in your…."

Quinn reached over and muffled Rachel with the pillow. Brittany hummed laughter rocking the seat backwards and forwards to throw Quinn's aim off.

"Don't distract the driver!" Santana smirked. Brittany leant over to her, and kissed her cheek, "I love you," she whispered.

In a handful of hours, which saw Brittany flash a passing bus of elderly people, Quinn reach over and cover Santana's eyes with her hands so she squealed and nearly hit a pot hole, rotations of driver's twice and too much singing, the sun had set and it was after midnight. The roads were dark and traffic had stilled next to nothing. The stars were as bright as Santana had ever seen them. She glanced in the review mirror, to a sleeping Rachel curled on Quinn's shoulder, Quinn's other arm draped over Rachel's lap. She then looked at Brittany, whose legs were perched on the dashboard, she was scrolling through Santana's photo album on her phone.

"Are you tired?" she asked.

Santana smirked, "How did you know I was looking at you?"

Brittany grinned, "I always know when you're looking at me,"

Santana shifted slightly, gripping the wheel as she twisted herself, "It's okay baby, I'm fine for now,"

"We've done well haven't we," Brittany asked.

Santana looked to her; Brittany's eyes were glistening in the light reflecting off the windshield and the headlights.

"It's just the beginning Brittsticks,"

Santana believed this. The demands of living a grown-up life would close in soon, but for now they had the power to freeze time. They had a cooler full of stolen breadsticks and snacks, a handful of slim jims they had snuck from Quinn's mini bar and flasks of vodka and beer. They may as well have been Jack Kerouac; more than ready for the road.

Salt Lake City was a place where people went who didn't want to be found. Santana knew that driving through the night; she wouldn't be able to shake the buzz of the promise of dropping off the face of the earth. Just her friends, camped away in a tiny bit of the world, ignoring all the responsibilities that were heading for them like a high speed train. They traced the highway east, staying within the lines as best they could. Ploughing through sleepy towns where the hard working watermen were already tucked into bed, boats loaded and with crab traps moored to old wooden docks in the quiet night. The overpass loomed in front of her as she came to the toll booths and saw that even in the early hours they were charging by the passenger. Santana did a U-turn and pulled over. The screeching wheels awoke Rachel and Quinn, who sat up in grunts and awkwardly untangled themselves. Santana's impulsive move had Brittany staring at her.

"San?"

Santana was smirking, "Q, Rachel, get in the trunk, under the blankets,"

"Excuse me?" Quinn asked, rubbing her eyes.

"I said its 50% off at the tolls, now you and my miniature get in the trunk!"

"Santana," Rachel said flabbergasted, "I won't be able to breathe,"

"Breathe in Quinn, instead?" Brittany offered.

Quinn flushed immediately.

"Trunk!" Santana ordered and they both scrambled to climb over the seats and hide themselves with the blankets.

"Ouch Quinn that was my hand!"

"Rachel," Quinn retorted, "You are so small it's not even an option that I don't squash you, now let me figure out where to my hands,"

"Oh god… not there…"

Santana burst out laughing as Brittany snuggled into her, peppering her neck with kisses, "Genius," she laughed.

And then they were off again, Santana driving and Brittany riding shotgun, both in hysterics over Rachel and Quinn's bickering from under the blankets. Just as Santana had planned, fifty percent off was easily achieved. No sooner had they passed the tolls and Santana had stopped for fuel.

"San!" Brittany called as she pumped the tank, "San there's an abandoned water tank, it's not even in the air, it's just out in the open,"

Quinn reached the vehicle after paying the gas station attendant.

There was a glint in Brittany's eye. Santana hooked the nozzle back in place, looked at Quinn and grinned. She ran after Brittany in the dark, throwing her clothes into a pile. She heard resistance from Rachel but eventually the four of them were splashing around in this massive tin tank and laughing at how much they'd treaded the line, but maybe the line went greater than that, maybe the line they were crossing was the one between youth and adulthood, between the insular upbringings and the far more sophisticated outlook of the world outside Ohio.

Brittany decided to drive, while Rachel and Quinn tried to get changed in the back seat. Their movements were improvised, trying to dry wet hair and remove damp clothing. Santana stretched in the front, sliding her hand across the middle and onto Brittany's thigh. They sped along the night road in the Jeep, a universe where time was marked only by the degrees by which each of them gradually dissolved into fatigue. By 7 a.m. Brittany alerted them that they were passing the sign to Salt Lake City, by this time Rachel and Quinn were sitting forward in their seats, and Santana was awake enough to turn the drum of the radio up and roll down the window. Her phone vibrated next to her leg and she saw Puck's name flash on the screen.

'_We're setting up, so hurry up,'_

She smiled briefly, "Ready for some fun girls?"

Brittany looked at her and winked, "Camp Glee"

Quinn laughed in response.

When Brittany finally pulled Santana's car into the camp site's offset parking a few miles out from Fort Douglas, they could already see two pairs of tents had been set up.

"It was so good of Puck to get that camper van;" Rachel said earnestly, "So Artie could come,"

Santana looked at Brittany who bit her lip, she hadn't really had more than a brief conversation with him since telling everyone she and Santana were official. It didn't feel like the right time. Santana was wondering when the right time actually would be.

Rachel's guide to building a tent sent Quinn insane. So much so, that by the time everything was down, a water fight had broken out and everyone was running around like mental patients with no regard for girls hair.

Finn dumped the cooler's ice contents over Santana's head, "Finnocence!" she rendered, throwing the bottle at his face.

"Incoming!" Puck laughed scooping her up and pretending to throw her across the field. Brittany came to her rescue by tipping beer over his head, "Britts not the beer!" he said grabbing her wrist and pulling her into him. The three of them landed in a heap on the grass.

"Damn Santana why didn't you think of this idea before?"

"Puck," she said rolling her eyes and elbowing him.

He rolled over laughing.

"Food!" Mercedes yelled, "Come get it while its hot you delinquents,"

They'd never been in a situation where it was just them, the open woods and the night sky. They had always been contained in a school environment with Mr Schuester telling them what they would be learning about for the day. This was their playground. It was their time to make their own rules. Which is precisely why Santana watched as everyone drank every bit of alcohol that had been brought.

Brittany sat down beside her; it was past midnight, _god why did she always look so fucking amazing in the moonlight_.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked quietly, watching Rachel begging Tina to re-enact _Livin on a prayer _with her.

"I had one about two hours ago, but then found it more amusing to watch Rachel,"

"And Quinn," Brittany smirked, edging closer to her.

"And Quinn," Santana agreed.

Santana turned to her a moment, kissing her forehead, "You okay?"

"I didn't take any of the drinks, I let Artie have all mine,"

"Brittsticks!" Santana said, "You paid Puck money for that alcohol!"

"I think I have a better idea,"

Santana frowned but Brittany pressed her lips softly to hers, "Come with me?"

Santana followed her, because her footsteps led to wherever Brittany would go.

**. . .**

"Santana I want us to make love," Brittany whispered.

Santana stopped kissing her neck.

"Brittsticks, we do that already,"

"No," she breathed in between Santana's touches, "You make love to me, and I make love to you, but I want us to make love _together_,"

The air was warm, as the sky laid out like velvet above them, and the blankets spread out softly beneath them. Brittany had brought her to a small wooden Warf, just by the lake, it was hidden by oak trees and the laughter of their friends was only a distant hum.

"Britts, I don't quite understand what your definition of..."

Brittany pulled Santana on top of her, immediately removing her shirt and unbuttoning Santana's pants.

"Off," she murmured.

Santana obliged, she was still confused.

They had developed the clothing game weeks ago. Santana stripped an item of Brittany's clothing, and then it was her turn, and then it continued until there was no clothing left between them, just the heat of their bodies burning in every possible way that always felt so right.

"Baby," Santana smiled, pressing their bodies tighter.

Brittany locked their eyes for a moment, and then Santana felt her hand slip between her legs.

_God  
><em>

"San, do the same,"

_Again_ she obliged.

Brittany quivered as Santana reciprocated her movements.

_Skin to skin, hearts to heart, touch to touch, lips barely apart.  
><em>

Santana was burning; every sound that Brittany made only made her want more. She could listen to this every single day for the rest of her life. They were making love, and they were making music. It was this perfectly elated orchestra that made her tremble with feelings she'd never had before.

**. . .**

"I never want to have a morning after, again," Rachel had declared as she watched Mike throw up into one the bushes.

Santana put her arm around her, "Are you okay?"

"Okay?" Rachel rounded, "No Santana, I had drunk sex with Quinn last night, so no I am not okay. I am completely and utterly not okay. Sex Quinn, I had sex with a girl,"

Santana shrugged, "but Rachel you weren't a virgi…."

"I've never slept with a girl!" she said exasperated, "San, I'm confused, and Quinn just seems pissed off,"

Santana bit her lip, maybe she should have monitored last night's behaviour a bit better.

"Rachel," she said softly, "My mum always used to tell me that drunken words are sober thoughts, so maybe you wanted to…"

"I don't know what I want San, other than to start back on the road. Brittany said she'll take first turn. I'm still over the limit, and so it Q… Quinn…god!"

Santana sighed as Rachel took off towards the camper van to help Finn pack up the rest of the empty bottles and chairs.

Maybe this was how it was all supposed to end, but then again what if this was how it was all supposed to start?

As they piled into the car, Santana looked at Puck wrestling Finn to the driver's seat. She saw Tina and Mercedes climb into the two door convertible she had borrowed from her Dad. She saw Kurt hand Artie a bottle of water and Sam throw the trunk down on the camper van with a slam. Santana thought that maybe this road trip, this place was only what they allowed it to be, that this part of the world was where the transcendent rush of the unexpected dwells, a place that cemented the end of their childhood, and as she winked at Rachel sitting nervously next to Quinn, Santana realised that places such as these were unlikely to be found on any ordinary map.


	28. Chapter 27

Little Readers!

I got a beta or whatever it is lol or at least I think I did?

I'm tragically sorry about my grammar (trust me this is why I need my editor permanently attached to me- he pulls me up on things all the time haha)

Anyway, I am now going to try and describe college life. Any suggestions please help- I'm not American (unfortunately because I love the country so much) so therefore I don't exactly know how it all works….

Post another chapter soon!

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 27<strong>

_So maybe you'll trace those steps back to me, through the ones you took before_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

"What about this?" Kurt asked thrusting the outfit in front of the screen.

Santana laughed, balancing the laptop on her knees, "Kurt it's just a flight, who do you have to impress?"

"Santana I haven't been home since high school there's many people I need to impress!" he responded.

She smirked slightly, "How's New York? I miss it,"

Kurt finally settled himself back in front of the screen so she could look at him properly.

"New York, is New York" he shrugged, "It's glorious, and Broadway just makes my heart beat,"

"Thinking about relocating?"

Kurt grinned, "Oh San, you know I love New York, but my job in London is perfect for me, and Blaine is there,"

Santana smiled briefly, Blaine Anderson, Kurt's college infatuation.

"And your boss is..."

"Obsessed with me," Kurt interrupted, "Look I just want you to focus on obtaining those scripts from Rachel. Pin her down if you want to but I think I can make some wonderful rewrites,"

"She won't like that!" Santana warned, and then realized that she'd raised her voice too loudly. Tina stirred from where she was curled on the left side of Santana's bed. Santana hadn't been able to sleep alone lately, so Rachel, Quinn and Tina had taken it in turns to spend the night next to her.

"I'm looking forward to this," Kurt reasoned, "A Rachel Berry production meets the Glee Club,"

Santana raised her eyebrows, "This is going to be a disaster,"

Tina and Mike hadn't really needed any convincing. Kurt had booked his flight not even within an hour of Rachel suggesting he come to Ohio. He'd managed to convince his boss to pay for the flight. Puck had taken leave from the force, and decided he was bringing Gabby, "_It will be good for her to see where I grew up"_ he had said. Quinn was already using her voice again and Santana was playing the piano when no one else was around her. It felt so strange to have her fingers run across the keys. Normally Brittany would be next to her, singing harmonies that fit so perfectly with hers. She still didn't know how to ask her if she wanted to help with the production.

"I'll be home soon San," Kurt said "But I have to run, Taye Diggs is in town and I want an autograph,"

Santana laughed as he kissed the screen and disappeared offline. She closed the laptop quietly, placing it on the bedside table and pulling the covers to her chin.  
>This was the hardest part about not just grabbing Brittany and telling her that her life right now was just a lie. It was in the hours of the night, where Brittany was sleeping beside her, Santana would turn and curl her body around her, and Brittany would smile. Even if she was in the deepest sleep, she would smile because she knew that Santana was keeping her safe.<p>

_God she wanted to keep her safe.  
><em>

Every morning for a fraction of a second, mid-way between being awake and half asleep, Santana could pretend that the world outside her and Brittany did not exist. She would be lying in her bed with Brittany draped around her, and she could smell her, and feel her skin even through the cotton t-shirt's that bound them. Then only a moment later she would come to a conscious state and realise that she'd fallen asleep on her mother's lounge again, with her laptop still running, Skype still saying that she was online. It was in that moment that these mixed feelings would all but crash back into her, she would feel hopeless and empty from not having Brittany beside her, she would feel determined to just jump in the car and drive to Zoe's house and tell Brittany this whole thing was a lie. But then she would remember what Artie had told her, about how Brittany wouldn't believe her even if Santana said something, and then suddenly all she really wanted was to close her eyes and try to reclaim those seconds when she had first woken up.

When it first occurs to her, when Santana first realizes what is happening, she gets up and makes coffee for herself. If it happens late at night, or early in the morning, there is this feeling that she is the only person in the world. Darkness magnifies the importance of certain things, and this is one of them. She constantly tries to remind herself why she's here, why she exists. _I exist because of you_, she whispers over and over, but then another voice warns her of what could happen. That she might have to say goodbye. This is never an easy thought to deal with, and some days Santana has to push down the dread of screwing everything up.

Tina had left in the early morning; she crept out to work and left Santana still asleep and dreaming. Now Santana was in the kitchen, trying to think what her mother loved to eat. It had been so long since she had been at home, she had completely forgotten. When she was younger, and they had moved back to Ohio, the mornings where her mother hadn't brought anyone home, and Santana had decided to sleep in her own bed, were the mornings where she could really admit that this was her mother. She would come into the kitchen and start cooking, and she would sing whilst she cooked, and Santana would be able to hear her as she got ready for school. The frying pan was sizzling with the oil Santana had dribbled over it, but it wanted her to place ingredients inside. She didn't know what was supposed to go where. The notebook sat beside her, it was thicker, more words had been added and as Santana stood staring at it, she remembered the words she had written after Layla and Michaels death. Words that she had never shared with anyone.

_Don't think I'm silly if sometimes I cry,_

_It's only because I'm hurting so bad,_

_Because every day this is sinking in_

_That you're both not here,_

_And I'm saying goodbye all over again._

_I hate all the time that was lost in between'_

_With you over there, and me over here,_

_And I'm dreaming of the day,_

_When I'll see your faces again._

_Can you do something, quietly though, when your free?_

_Can you save one place up there, just for me?_

You can never hope to ever be okay with saying goodbye too soon, especially when you have this guilt built up of all the things you should have said but never had the chance to. She had wanted to thank them for giving her a family.

At this Santana drew a breath. She had never once thanked her own mother for things that she had done. She had always overlooked everything because it was easier to be mad at her. Her mother had suggested she try out for The Cheerio's because Santana was a good dancer, her mother had suggested Santana write songs when she was heartbroken over she and Brittany's first breakup. Why had it been so easy to criticised and block her mother out, when really all she had ever wanted was to have a relationship with her. The sound of footsteps caught her off guard and she turned to see her mother standing before her, hair tied into a bun, dressing gown draped around her.

"Querida?" She asked, "Are you cooking?"

"Mum," Santana said, as she watched her pull some butter from the fridge.

Maria turned slowly, her gaze falling over Santana's, it was such an endearing gaze, the same one she use to give her when she was thirteen, and she was trying to do what was best for her, but Santana had wanted an entirely different answer.

Santana moved from the frying pan, she took five ginger steps towards her mother, "Mum," she repeated.

Maria was staring at her now, her lips were quivering, her eyes filled with those familiar salty tears, that Santana seemed to flood the house with lately.

"Mum, I love you," Santana whispered.

"Querida," she had barely managed.

Santana fell into her mother, burying her face deep amongst the wool of her dressing gown, as Maria wrapped her arms around her, clasping tight around the one thing that she thought she had lost forever.

**. . .**

Brittany may have lost her memory. She may still be shy and tentative when it came to asking questions about things Santana had accidently mentioned, but she had defiance about her. The same one she had in high school, when someone would say she wasn't allowed to do something and she still did it anyway.

Santana was sitting on the edge of the driveway, watching as Brittany drew lazy circles in the ground with a stick. She needed to stop getting more attractive.

"What excuse did you use today?" Santana asked.

Brittany smiled, "I didn't have to, they both went to work early. I appreciate how protective they are, and I know they don't want me to get hurt but I need some fresh air once in a while,"

"Do they say anything about me?"

Brittany shook her head, "No? Should they?"

Santana cleared her throat, "Oh no, I was just wondering,"

As long as Brittany kept this up, thinking that it was all only because Artie and Zoe wanted to help mend her properly, then maybe Santana could just make her fall in love with her anyway.

"Do you remember being in Glee Club?" Santana suddenly asked.

Brittany shook her head, "Were you in Glee club as well?"

Santana sighed, _just go for it Santana._

"Do you remember meeting Rachel and Quinn?"

Brittany nodded, "From the Titan's football game?"

"There's a reason why they looked familiar Brittany, it's because they were in Glee Club too,"

Brittany stopped twirling the stick, "I thought I recognised them. They were in the year book photo, so was Artie"

Santana felt sick as she smiled at his name, "He's really sweet to me, we have a lot of things in common, I can see why we're together,"

Santana gritted her teeth.

"Well anyway, Rachel has this big show back in New York, and she's brought it to Ohio, but her actors have called in sick. So I was wondering if maybe you could help us put the show on?"

Brittany looked at her, "I don't know San, what if I've forgotten how to dance?"

Santana smiled, "I don't think that's possible,"

She looked reluctant, as though someone had literally told her that dancing shouldn't be a part of her life.

_This had to be Zoe's doing_, Santana thought.

Suddenly there was a jingle of a bell and something shot out from the bushes. It ran straight to Brittany.

"Jesus mother of Christ," Santana whispered, "Lord freaking Tubbington,"

Her mother had said he'd run away shortly after the girls had moved to New York. The college hadn't allowed for pets on campus. Brittany had been devastated.

"What a pretty cat," Brittany grinned, reaching for him as he crawled into her lap.

"He's very pretty," Santana agreed.

Brittany didn't remember him either, but damn did he remember her. He just sat there purring like it was normal for him to have disappeared for six years and suddenly turn up again. He stared at Santana, meowing as though he was saying that he was back.

Santana wanted to hug him so bad, but she knew that this was just supposed to be a random cat.

"What's his name?" she asked.

Brittany checked the collar, "Lord Tubbington," and then she laughed, she laughed so much Santana wanted to die at the sound. It was so beautiful, "San, that sounds like something I would name a cat,"

_That's because he's your cat._

Before Santana could answer, a taxi pulled up outside her house, the door was flung open, and before her stood an irresistibly well-dressed individual.

Kurt Hummel.

Santana stood up immediately as he called out her name, "Santana for god's sake check your autocorrect next time and remember your mother doesn't live in the same place as high school. It's taken me half an hour to try and find you; I had to ring your mother to get the right address!"

Santana laughed, "Kurt please tell me you're not holding what I think you are,"

He grinned, glancing at the plastic bag in his hand, with Quinn and Rachel's clown fish swimming around in the water. "I take my babysitting duties very seriously!"

"Who's that?" Brittany asked, staring as Kurt stood with one hand on his hip, the other holding up the damn clown fish.

Santana laughed, "Kurt Hummel, Glee Club's finest,"

Brittany smiled gently, "Did I dance with him?"

Santana looked at her; she noticed how much Brittany's eyes were glistening, as though she was excited.

_Kurt freaking Hummel_ just shows up with 'Nemo' and already Brittany was gravitating towards him.  
>"Oh you danced all right. Do you want to find those steps again?"<p>

"Will you help me?" Brittany asked.

_Santana melted._

"Of course I will,"

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_College has began_

Summer had ended at Breadsticks, with everyone toasting to the new adventures that were upon them. She and Brittany had packed up their things, flown to New York and settled into dormitories.

Separate dormitories.

Brittany had been thrown into her dance course almost immediately, whilst Santana took her management and music classes as they slowly had become more in depth.

College life was nothing like she expected. She was taking 15 credits a semester and literally drowning in text books. She liked most of her professors but they were nothing like Mr Schuester. Santana hadn't spoken to Rachel or Quinn in weeks. She hadn't heard from Puck or anyone else. They tried to Skype once a week but then things became so hectic that no one had the time to even sleep. She missed them. God she missed them.

Brittany was so excited about her course that Santana had to resist jumping on her in the middle of the campuses. Julliard was so big, divided into separate dorms according to different subsections of arts. They were always so busy. Santana hated that the separate courses meant separate dormitories. She hadn't seen Brittany properly in a week. That wasn't how it was meant to be. It was meant to be her and her girlfriend, living college out to its best. Santana had never really thought about how much the goodbyes shared had really meant _goodbye_.

Now everyday it seemed like the distance was becoming a reality from the people that were such staples in her high school life. She didn't have Rachel Berry in her ear every five seconds asking her if she'd studied for a test, or reminding her that the homework was due. She didn't have Puck telling her when the next episode of _Dexter _was on. She couldn't watch Brittany and Mike make up a dance routine and ask her for her opinion. Quinn wasn't around to smirk at her and tell her she was being too dramatic. Julliard fit with Santana, but she was still trying to work out whether she fit with Julliard. There were so many new faces and names she had to learn. Brittany seemed to fit in a lot better, she had made friends, and she would go out with these friends. Santana had tried, but they were so much more dedicated to what they wanted than she was. She wanted Brittany, but Brittany wasn't a profession, she couldn't tell everyone after four years that she had a degree in Brittany.

Brittany's roommate was intoxicating. Flawless, beautiful, down to earth, her name was Carly Hitchens. She danced like a swan. Carly wanted to major in professional dance. She had hopes of becoming a professional dancer in a major international company. Brittany had decided she wanted the same. So now everything she talked about somehow related back to Carly. Santana didn't know whether to feel insecure or jealous or actually be friends with the girl. Brittany had mentioned the other week over coffee that in the history of New York City Ballet, there have been less than 700 NYCB dancers that had survived. Typically, fewer than 10 individuals join the Company in any given year. With the exception of a few international dancers who are well-known to the artistic leadership, NYCB dancers share one thing in common. Almost all have trained in professional dance colleges. Brittany's friends had high aspirations and since starting college, Santana had found how much it had rubbed off on Britt. She was more outspoken about what she wanted in life, it made Santana proud, but it also scared the hell out of her. Brittany spoke about so many dreams and goals; she was beginning to wonder if she still fit into them.

In Santana's first lecture for Management 101, the professor had solidified why they should stay in college. He had said that they would spend the next four years working towards goals and aiming to graduate all for the purpose of learning how to think critically, get a formal education past high school and commit to the arts. What he'd forgotten to say, which is what Santana was learning the hard way, is that you would also spend these years, exhausted, up late, low on cash and working your way through textbook bills. Her father was helping to pay; he was sending cheques to her mother, but Santana had still needed to pick up a part time job in one of the local restaurants in the area. She liked working there, she liked meeting new customers, and she liked the tips from the old guys who thought she was hot. But she hated that it was another thing that took her time away from Brittany.

"Santana wake up!"

She glanced sideways, from where she had been slumped in the lecture chair and stared at Josh beside her.

Josh was good looking. A transfer student who had moved from California to the Big Apple. Wavy blonde hair, pink lips, blue eyes; he reminded her so much of Sam Evans it was uncanny. Josh dejayed. He wanted to start his own production label and was only doing management to fill in some more credits. On the first day, Santana had sat down, he had leant across the space between them and she had thought he was going to try pick her up. Instead he had asked for her help. She had cocked an eyebrow and he'd pointed to a brunette girl sitting at the front of the lecture room.

"_I like her,"_ he had said, _"Help me to make her like me back,"_

They'd been friends since.

Santana shifted slightly, forcing herself to become alert to what Professor McCormack was saying.

"God San," Josh smirked, "You're more of a day dream believer than the monkeys"

She rolled her eyes, his humour they could work on.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she snuck it out to read the message.

'_San! A few of the gang want to head over to the main square tonight, try some routines out for the public. I'm sorry baby I know we had plans, but I really want to go… Call you in the morning'_

Santana slumped down in the chair again. More plans changed. More of Brittany wanting to spend time with these new friends and not her.

More nights without Brittany.


	29. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

_The little things are what makes you know me baby_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Santana had always believed that people universally tend to think that happiness is a stroke of luck, something that might descend upon you like fine weather if you're fortunate enough. Since being back home, she had realized that this was not how happiness works. Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the expressions of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become careless about maintaining it, you must use all your will power to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it. If you don't, you will leak away your innate contentment. It's easy enough to pray when you're in distress but continuing to pray even when your crisis has passed is like a sealing process, it tells the world that you're still thankful. Santana was going to fight until she found happiness again, and if or when she did, she was going to be thankful every day for it.

Rachel was staring at her, from where Santana was reading through the scripts.

"You know," she said, rotating the mug in her palms, "You're biggest problem is that you have never seen things the way they actually are, you've always only seen them according to who you are,"

Santana frowned, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Rachel shrugged, "Maybe you should start listening to the advice of others,"

Quinn scoffed as she walked into the lounge room, "Rachel punching the crap out of Zoe is not good advice,"

"Well I think so," she muttered.

Kurt looked up from where he had highlighted just about the whole page of the script and written notes, "Yes but then Santana is going to ruin her perfectly good hand posture,"

"Since when do I have hand posture?"

"Since you have delicately wondrous hands,"

"And I supposed that's what Brittany said too," Quinn responded sarcastically, as she sat down next to Rachel.

Santana froze for a second. Day in and day out she would think about how much she missed Brittany for everything she was. She didn't dare mentioned how much she missed touching her, how much she missed being touched by her. She craved it, almost as much as she craved being back in that cake shop and literally demanding that Brittany stay right where she was.

Rachel's script was phenomenal. Santana couldn't believe she had never asked to read it before. Sure the show was out of control, it had received more reviews than any other production, but now reading through it, Santana could slowly see everything the show encompassed. It wasn't just about New York, it was a story filled with the beautiful things that came with being in New York in the snow. It was a story about desperation, about aiming to achieve those dreams and trying to be a better person whilst doing it. This script was Rachel explaining everything Mr Schuester had taught them. Mr Schuester had taught them not to judge. In the time that Santana had spent in Glee Club, she had worked out that there were two sides to almost every story. Now every time she looked at someone she thought of all the reasons why they may do or act in the way that they do. The boy who wears long sleeves everyday might be trying to cover his arms. The girl, who doesn't let anyone come to her house, is scared they'll see her alcoholic father. The boy daydreaming in the corner, he has bipolar. The girl caked in makeup, she's bullied and she needs to feel beautiful. Rachel's script reminded her of being in Glee Club, how they had all had these pre perceived opinions of each other, and then once the masks had been removed, they had finally seen what each of them were, just people trying to find a place in the world.

Maybe that's what most of the world problems are. We listen too much to the tiny words that come in pairs. We focus on the _"I can't"_ or the _"We shouldn't"_ when really it should be the opposite, it should be the "_I can, I will, or we should_". The doorbell rang and Santana was forced to reconnect with the rest of the room.

"Oh god," Rachel said, "That's her,"

Quinn had stilled as well.

"It's Brittany," Santana said, pulling herself up from the floor, "She's not an alien,"

"Yes but what if I accidently say something?" Rachel said.

"Well then just don't talk," Kurt suggested, "I'll tell you how some scenes in the show should go instead?"

Rachel narrowed her eyes at him, "Listen Beyoncé, I'll have you know…"

"God!" Santana said, "It's Glee Club already!"

She abandoned them just as Quinn had pulled Rachel backwards to stop her from stealing Kurt's highlighters.

She opened the door and Brittany was standing on the other side.

"Hi," she smiled, "I'm sorry I'm late,"

"No you're on time," Santana replied, she resisted the urge to lean in and kiss her cheek, were they ready for that?

Brittany followed Santana into Rachel's childhood home and shyly said hello to everyone. Santana could instantly read all of Quinn's facial expressions before Brittany had even said anything. Quinn said everything with her expressions; she'd always been that way. Right now she was saying how much she missed Brittany, how much she missed her best friend, how much she missed when Brittany would call her and they would talk for hours over stupidly random things that would never make any sense.

Rachel broke the silence, "Thanks for offering to help Brittany, I really appreciate it,"

Santana eyed Kurt, _stop staring at her!_

He seemed to gather his senses, "I think you will like this show, although I must admit we should be making changes"

"Kurt!" Rachel groaned, slapping her hand to her forehead, "Can you stop highlighting!"

Santana removed the pillows from one of the lounges and told Brittany to sit; she did so placing the container she had brought with her, on the space beside her.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, "But this morning I woke up with this really strange urge to make Tapas, so I brought you all some,"

Santana froze, _Christ all mighty baby you used to make that for me all the time_

Rachel seemed to gather what was going on and instantly came to Santana's gob smacked rescue, "So anyway Brittany, I've assigned you the role '_Harley'_, the exotic dancer, she's more in depth than that though I promise, and don't worry about the costumes…. they're tame,"

Rachel gave a small smile, to which Santana slightly slumped, god seeing Brittany in next to no clothes would have been…

"When are the others getting here?" Brittany asked, cutting off her thoughts.

"Day or two," Quinn answered, "Work commitments have held people back, but generally everyone's showing,"

Brittany nodded, "So what are we doing today?"

Rachel smiled, "Dance lessons!"

Santana looked at her, last night Rachel had said they were just going to go through the script!

"Rachel…" she started.

But Brittany was already on her feet, she leant down and pulled Santana up with her, the feel of Brittany's hand gripping her wrist was enough for her to nearly pass out.

"I haven't danced in so long, San," she pleaded, "Let Rachel teach me!"

Santana eyed Quinn who was trying drastically not to laugh, _Rachel_ teaching _Brittany_ to dance, god this was going to be fantastic.

Kurt bounded over to the stereo system and punched the buttons for a moment. When the song filtered into the room Santana felt the most stupidest grin spread across her face. Typical Kurt, _god the irony._

"All the single ladies?" she questioned as she raised her eyebrow at him.

Kurt flashed one of his devilish smiles and the next thing Brittany said made Santana realize what he had done.

"Oh," Brittany smiled, "This is my favourite song!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_College, passing through the months_

"Santana you are acting like a child!" Brittany yelled.

"A child?" she retorted, "Oh look I'm sorry if this is the fifth time my girlfriend has cancelled our plans this week and I'm upset about it,"

"Santana I said I can't help it, I have a major assignment coming up worth 65% of my half yearly exams, I need to prepare,"

Santana huffed slightly, from where she was standing next to her desk in her dormitory. By rare chance, she had been given a room to herself, because the person she was supposed to be sharing with had never shown up the first day. So what would have been a perfect environment for them to have an entire dorm to themselves, had slowly turned into a lonely den with Santana not having anyone to share it with.

"Just go shake your damn tail feather with all your little dance crew then,"

Brittany stilled, the shock was written all over her face and instantly Santana wished she had never said that. _How had she just said that?_ That was completely unlike her.

"Fine," Brittany said angrily.

"Britts I didn't mean…"

"No Santana I get it," she said flatly, and before Santana could stop her, she'd slammed the door on her way out.

There was nothing left to do, other than the one thing that she had been dying to do ever since she got to this damn place.

Santana picked up her phone and dialed Rachel Berry. Screw over due phone bill charges, enough was enough.

When Rachel answered her voice alone was enough to make Santana burst into tears.

"Santana?" Rachel said urgently, "Santana what is going on?"

"I-feel-so-stupid" she choked out.

"Santana Lopez if you don't tell me what is the matter right now, I will… what's the Spanish word for kick you?"

"_Patada que_", Santana muttered through tears, "And how can you do that when you're four hours away!"

Rachel paused for a moment, "Oh San, I know I'm not exactly beside you, but just pretend I am, please tell me what's wrong,"

"Brittany and I just had a major fight and I said something really mean,"

"Santana," Rachel reasoned, "Brittany of all people would know you didn't mean it,"

"You didn't see her face!" Santana replied.

"Santana you threw thirteen slushies' in my face over my high school career and I forgave you, I'm pretty sure Brittany will forgive you,"

Santana winced, "Don't talk about that, you know I hate that I was like that,"

"Sorry,"

"It's hard Rach," she sniffed, "We're never together and even when we are, it's different, it's like she wants to be somewhere else,"

"God Santana, I really don't want to be the one to say this," Rachel muttered, but Santana knew of all people she was going to say it anyway, "But this isn't high school, this is college and you're bound to meet new people and have different experiences, you just have to rely on the faith that when it's all over, you'll come together again,"

"I hate this feeling," she said, holding back her crying hiccups, she hated those.

"Do you want me to come up for the weekend? I can take try get out of classes for a couple of days, I have five assignments that I don't seem to be getting done, and I'm running our school summer production, but I can take the work with me?"

"No," Santana shook her head, "I love you for asking, but I can't ask you to do that,"

"Santana,"

"Rachel it's okay, I'm okay, really, I promise,"

"Well just call me okay, at any given time, you just call,"

"Thank you," she responded.

As Rachel said she loved her and she'd speak to her soon, Santana had no sooner hung up and she was feeling alone all over again.

. . .

Josh ploughed into the foot long sandwich he'd just bought at the cafeteria, "Honestly kid I don't know how the hell you eat so much," she said.

He grinned between chicken and cucumber.

Santana felt her phone ringing, she retrieved it to see Brittany's face on the screen, was she over their argument already?

Santana answered but before she could even say hello, Brittany was already speaking.

"I know you're probably still mad at me, because I'm kinda still mad at you, but I want you to meet me on the west wing, I have something exciting to show you,"

"Okay," Santana responded frowning.

Brittany laughed at something before saying "hurry up" and with a click she'd gone.

"Josh I have to go," she said, grabbing her bag, "I'll meet you in the library okay,"

He shrugged and nodded, clearly the sandwich was a much better companion then his moody friend right now.

When Santana entered the west wing, she felt the different vibe instantly. People were so energetic on this side of Julliard, like they couldn't keep still. It was fitting really, with half of them studying dance and chorography.

Then she saw it. The strangest thing she had seen all year. Brittany sitting at one of the benches with Artie Abrams. What in the world was _wheels_ doing at Julliard? Correction what in the world was _wheels_ doing in New York City?

"Hey Artie" she said, the confusion pretty much tumbled from her mouth before she'd managed to restrain herself.

"Santana," he said placing his hands back in his lap, not before Santana had seen how dangerously close they had been to her girlfriends.

"San," Brittany said, "Artie is doing college part time, and has a job working in IT for Google. Julliard is going to pay him to maintain their computer systems for the semester!"

Santana eyed him, _how convenient_.

"Never knew Julliard would hire a college student?" she asked, slotting into the chair beside Brittany.

"I got credentials," he said, smiling at Brittany.

Santana gritted her teeth.

"Isn't that great San!" Brittany smiled, "Artz will be here for the whole semester!"

Santana felt uneasy, but she did the only thing that she could think of, she smiled and nodded.


	30. Chapter 29

Little Readers!

Four words: patience is a virtue!

;)

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 29<strong>

_It's okay take your time, I'll be waiting, I've always been waiting_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Santana laughed as Puck jumped up on top of Rachel's piano.

"Noah Puckerman!" Rachel squealed, "that is an antique you nethanderal!"

Quinn wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist settling her chin on her shoulder, "Oh baby it's just for effect,"

"Q, effect is tone and clarification, jumping on my father's piano is _not _effect,"

Puck hopped down and folded his arms, "Well maybe you should have given me a role other than the thief, I'm a cop you know,"

"Exactly," Rachel insisted, "You get to exercise your acting skills again,"

He rolled his eyes, sitting back down on the lounge next to his wife. Gently he slid a hand over her Gabby's growing stomach and smiled at her.

God it made Santana beam at him.

After everything that had been happening, Santana now believed that people's memories were like a book. Each morning a blank page is turned, and your mind records everything that happens during that day. An act done is done forever; for, the time in which it is done, in passing, passes to return no more. The history is written and sealed up. These people were all part of her book, they had been recorded in the years that they had shared Glee Club together. If anything would help to bring Brittany's memory back, it was going to be Glee Club.

Santana heard Brittany's laugh, and she turned to see her spinning next to Mike.

"I told you, you'd get it again," he grinned, letting Brittany pull out from him in a twirl.

In high school, Mr Schuester had given Santana the opportunity to sing Amy Winehouse's song '_Valerie_' at sectionals. She was so completely nervous about singing it, that Brittany and Mike had come up with a dance routine to match the song, just so she wouldn't have to be on stage alone. The entire time she had been singing it, Santana had been trying not to look at them. They had been amazing, more than amazing, she had no idea how they had come up with it; and Brittany had done the entire routine in damn stilettos. Now she was watching Brittany relearn the routine. Even though it wasn't going to be used in Rachel's production, Mike still wanted to Brittany to remember.

_"Maybe if she remembers the dance, she'll remember me"_ he had shrugged as Santana had made him coffee in the kitchen earlier.

She had looked at him and he had grinned, "_Dancing with Britt and Glee Club was the best part of school,"_

Santana, for the first time in her life, had hugged Mike Chang.

"You dance so well!" Brittany was now saying.

"We were the best in Glee," he smiled.

Santana took a deep breath as Brittany's eyes glazed over, trying to remember.

"Britt," she said, walking over to them, "You okay? Do you want a break?"

She nodded slightly, as Mike was pulled away by Tina.

Rachel seemed to get the hint on what was happening, "Ten minute break everyone," she called, just as Kurt had hurled a pillow at Puck.

Santana stepped outside onto the porch with Brittany, and they sat on the steps gently.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I feel like I should be remembering," Brittany murmured, "I mean these were the people I shared Glee Club with San, shouldn't I remember them?"

Santana didn't exactly have any concrete answers, she wasn't a medical professional, she didn't know how long or how permanent this amnesia was. The only thing she could think of was something Quinn had mentioned the other night.

_Mnemophobia_; the fear of memory.

Quinn had always been a researcher. She had always been so caught up in wanting to know exactly how things worked, which is probably the reason why so many people idolized her in high school. Everyone thought she knew everything. Santana had believed that this was the sole reason why everyone wanted to be like her, because it was like she had this certain power over everything. As a teenager she'd used it to her advantage and now, now she just used everything to help Rachel and her friends.

Santana had been over for dinner to catch up with Rachel's dads and Quinn had been sitting on the lounge reading through at least three articles. After Leroy and Hiram had stuffed Santana so full of dessert, Quinn had asked her to come sit and read with her.

"_Some people believe in Mnemophobia,"_ she had said, "_They say that after traumatic incidents, some victims choose not to remember because they are scared to,"_  
>Santana had thought that Zoe had probably instilled this fear into her.<p>

_"We need to be careful,"_ Quinn had continued, "_If Zoe is manipulating her as much as what we think, we can't do anything that is going to cause Britany to retreat, because then she won't trust us, and we'll completely lose her to Zoe,_"

Keeping that in mind, as she stared at her Santana smiled reassuringly, "Just take your time,"

Brittany shrugged slightly, "I just feel empty,"

_Then let me back in baby  
><em>

"Why didn't Rachel ask Artie to be in the production? Wasn't he in Glee Club too? Isn't he your friend?"

Santana tried not to make her seething face, the one where she gritted her teeth and glared to prevent herself from throwing punches.

"There wasn't enough spots I guess, bedsides a lot of us haven't seen each other in a while, I guess Rachel just went with the people she kept the most in contact with over the years,"

Santana cringed at her own white lie, god why was it so hard just to lay everything on the line.

Brittany seemed to take the answer though.

"Did you and I keep in contact much over the years?"

_She couldn't do this.  
><em>

"What do you think?"

Santana surprised herself with that comeback.

Brittany glanced at her with one of those looks, one of those looks that said she wanted to say something, but she wasn't sure how Santana would respond.

"I think you have pretty eyes," she murmured.

Santana felt electricity surge through her body and Brittany hadn't even touched her.

"Thank you for what you're doing San," she smiled slowly, "I really appreciate it,"

Brittany leant over to her and wrapped her arms around her, pulling Santana into a hug. It was all Santana could do not to fall to pieces in her arms, the way she felt, the way she still had that scent, the feel of her arms locked around Santana, her hair, just everything about her, she still felt right. She still felt like Brittany.

The moment was fleeting because Rachel was calling everyone back inside.

"How long until production?" Brittany asked before they walked back inside.

Santana bit her lip, "Oh say three weeks now,"

Brittany raised an eyebrow, "Is that even possible?"

Santana smirked, "Its Rachel berry, anything is possible"

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Summer's here, end of semester, end of year one_

The weather in New York at the moment was unbearable. The sun had stopped in the middle of the sky, refusing to move, firing missiles of heat at anyone who ventured outside. Santana could almost see the rippling waves as they bounced over the cement in the courtyard.

_Julliard's Summer Carnival. _

Why in the world did she volunteer to help organise.

"_Just be on the committee with me"_, Josh had begged, _"I need extra credit and you need something positive to put on the 'experience' list you're growing,"_

"_I have three years to grow my list"_ she had pointed out.

"_Those three years will be over before you know it,"_ he had responded and Santana had felt sick.

Now she sat in the sun, handing tickets to college students as they entered through the gigantic archway covered in red balloons. She had helped to construct the carnival over the past week, turning the college campus into an angular, shiny metal theme park with a Ferris wheel stuck right in the middle of the campus. Signposts painted with bright, smooth paint in colours too painful to look at in the sunlight were scattered everywhere with words like _Fairy floss this way, hot chocolate that way, donate to the Dance Troupe_. Santana had stared at that signpost the longest, mainly because it had been painted by Brittany, who she hadn't seen in nearly a week. Josh had tried to escape New Yorks sudden urge to climb the Fahrenheit ladder by staking a huge beach umbrella in the ground and setting up the ticket booth underneath. Even so, the crowds of determined college students, forcing their way in front of the queues for drinks and rides, or grabbing seats for acts by fellow students had made the entire thing difficult to breathe.

From where Santana was standing the metal roller coaster frame was visible, standing high above the groups of people with their heads back, watching the string of golden cars racing around the loops, the noise of the machinery an incessant roar mixed with the terrified shrieks of the passengers. Santana smirked as one girl hopped up and down on one leg. They say that Carnival Time brings out the child in everyone, maybe that's why it was supposed to be so special. She couldn't understand where the hell Brittany was. They were meant to be walking hand in hand around the campus, laughing as people came off shaking from the ghost train. Every time Santana called her this past semester, she was with Artie. They had always trusted each other, that was what a relationship was built on right? But Santana's insecurities were mounting. She hadn't kissed her in so long. Was that even normal?

"San go have a break," Josh said placing another stack of tickets on the card table, "Julie will take over,"

Santana smiled at the Filipino girl in her music composition class before taking the bottle of water from the table and heading into the carnival. She'd never actually been to one properly. McKinley had housed a couple of State Fairs in their time, but generally that was when she was going through her "_Satan phase_" as Kurt had so kindly dubbed it, so she spent the entire time hurling 'jello' at the juniors. Julliard was amazing; there was no other word for it. It housed some of the most talented performers Santana had ever seen. People weren't just singers; they were extraordinary singers. People couldn't just dance; they could light the stage on fire with their movements. People couldn't put together productions in weeks; they could do it in hours. She loved the atmosphere; she just didn't love that she couldn't share all of this with Britt.

Making her way through the crowds, she really wanted to go on the rollercoaster, thinking that being thrashed around high in the air might act as a substitute for air-conditioning and the wind in her hair would give her some heat relief.

_Where the hell was Britt?_

Santana pulled out her phone and dialled her number, she answered after what felt like too many minutes.

"San!" she said, "Where are you?"

"Wondering where you are!"

"I'm with Artz, we're near the corn dog stand, and Carly is just about to go on stage for her solo, come watch!"

Santana should have known she'd be with _wheels_, she felt her cheeks flush red in annoyance.

It took three balloons being popped in her face, almost colliding with a guy carrying his trombone to the stage and a girl asking if she wanted to join 'flutes forever', before Santana finally saw her girlfriend. She wished the damn trombone had knocked her out. Brittany was sitting in Artie's lap, eating a corn dog as they laughed about something. Santana felt something tick over in her mind.

"Hey," she said curtly, glaring at him.

"San," Brittany smiled, "Here taste this, it's so good,"

The corn dog was pretty much thrown at her face, as Santana struggled to even take a bite from all the ketchup she had just absorbed.

"Carly is on in five minutes," Brittany said excitedly

_Okay great, do you want to maybe stop sitting in your ex-boyfriends lap and kiss your current girlfriend hello?_

Carly was nothing short of brilliant. As much as Santana wanted to envy her, because she was the one who was literally living in Brittany's pocket, she could not deny how beautiful she was on stage. She was stunning and she knew how to control her posture and body in time to the music in ways Santana had never seen before. Looking at Brittany watch her made Santana's heart break though. She was looking at Carly with all this pride in her eyes. Where was that look when Santana spoke about her music or management classes? Was she even interested in what Santana was doing?

**. . .**

The day wound down fairly quickly. Santana spent nearly the entire time listening to _wheels_ speak about his job and Carly laugh at him thinking he was hilarious. She wanted to punch something. Finally as the crowds started to disperse, and it was just college students who enjoyed the night atmosphere, bouncing around the rides, Santana was able to stand on the edge of the campus, just underneath the Ferris wheel, staring up at it as it slowly rotated. The night air was so much cooler, like it was intent on spreading relief across the hot earth for the day. The air felt good against her skin, it felt like summer, only Brittany was missing.

"Hey,"

Santana turned. Brittany had finally reached her, standing before her, dressed in her Julliard Dance hoodie.

"Do I actually get to see you alone?"

Brittany sighed slightly, as though she was annoyed at the comment.

Santana had been around her long enough to know that facial expression, she knew Brittany's mannerism as though they were her own.

"Britts, just say whatever you want to say,"

That was the first mistake Santana made, because Brittany took a deep breath and a step closer and suddenly Santana was wishing she hadn't told her to say anything.

"We don't talk about us anymore," Brittany whispered.

Santana stared at her; the light from the flashing games in the arcades beside them was making her eyes glisten.

"That's because you're always with Artie,"

"San, he gets what I want,"

"And you don't think I do?"

Brittany bit her lip, "I think we just want different things,"

"So you don't want me anymore?" Santana asked turning to her.

Brittany's shoulders slumped, "I didn't say that,"

Santana felt the lump grow in the back of her throat, "You didn't have to,"

"Santana I didn't think this would be as complicated as it is,"

Santana sighed, neither had she.

But she couldn't keep doing this, _they _couldn't keep doing this. Trying to fit into each other's schedules. It was summer, semester was ending and they were supposed to be excited over finishing their first year. Only they were both trying to find ways to want to be together. Every time Santana suggested they do something, Brittany had plans with either Carly or Artie. Every time Brittany said she could come see her, Santana was playing video games with Josh or catching up on mountains of homework. It wasn't working.

_God it wasn't working_.

"Are we breaking up?" Santana whispered.

Brittany couldn't prevent the tears streaking down her face, "I don't want to, but I don't know what else to do,"

Santana looked at her, "It wasn't supposed to be like this,"

Brittany's lips quivered, "But it is,"

The laughter from other college students bouncing around them, throwing fairy floss at each other seemed to blur as all Santana could see was Brittany walking away.


	31. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30**

_Even if the world is blind, I think I need to take one moment, just to lay it on the line_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

"When is Gabby due exactly?" Kurt asked from where he sat perched next to Puck in the Berry's kitchen.

Puck finished putting the last bit of bacon in his mouth before shrugging, "Soon?"

Kurt sighed exasperatingly, "Honestly Puck you wouldn't know whether your head was screwed on if that wonderful woman you call your wife didn't tell you every morning".

Puck grinned sheepishly.

Quinn walked into the kitchen just as Santana was piling another batch of bacon onto his plate.

She looked flustered, "Has Rachel come home yet?"

Santana looked at her, "Since, she left this morning?"

Quinn nodded.

"No not yet," Santana shrugged.

Puck and Gabby had been staying in the Berry's spare bedroom with Rachel and Quinn upstairs in Rachel's room and Kurt bunked in with Santana a few blocks away. Every day, they had gathered at Leroy's and Hiram's house for a quick production practice and food because the Berry's always had so much of it. Mike, Tina and Mercedes slotted into practice as often as their work commitments would allow and Brittany popped in when she knew the coast was clear, and she wasn't going to be on _house arrest_ as everyone had come to call it.

"She had errands to run though," Puck shrugged.

Quinn looked at him, "I just have this weird feeling you know,"

"Speaking of weird, what the hell is with Artz man," Puck said bringing up the topic Santana dreaded every time they all got together. She didn't want to talk about it.

"Can we not," she said, pouring more oil into the frying pan, why was the Berry's appliances so much easier to use than her mother's?

"San, I think I should go bust him, talk some sense into him,"

"And he's going to listen to you?" Kurt asked raising his eyebrows.

"Why wouldn't he? I'm an officer of the law, what he's doing is wrong,"

"Okay correction," Santana responded, "You an officer of the law in Atlanta, not Ohio,"

Puck shrugged, "Just trying to help,"

"I know," she replied looking at him with one of her typical endearing looks, "But the way everything is going is fine, Brittany trusts me, that's all the matters right now,"

The front door slammed and there was a cry for Quinn.

Quinn immediately abandoned her stack of catalogues she was sorting and ran to her where her voice had been called.

"Rachel?" she said.

Santana put down the spatula and hurried after Quinn, she had the same feeling now.

"Oh my god," Quinn yelled running for her.

Rachel limped into the lounge room, cradling the side of arm, bruising blemished on the left of her jawline.

"Baby" Quinn whimpered as Rachel fell into her arms, "Baby talk to me,"

"That bitch can burn in hell," Rachel sobbed.

Santana helped Quinn sit Rachel down on the lounge, and she sat down beside her, so Rachel was in between them, in between two walls, she was safe now.

Quinn placed kisses to her cheek, softly pressing her lips to the part of Rachel's face that hurt.

"Rachel," Santana said firmly, "What happened?"

"I was running errands," she said deeply, between small sobs, "And suddenly this woman comes out of nowhere and tells me she knows I've been speaking to Brittany,"

Santana stilled as Quinn clenched her teeth.

By this time Puck and Kurt had entered the room. Puck's face reminded Santana so much of him in high school, as though he was literally going to start spraying bullets at anyone who touched his girls. Kurt disappeared for a moment, muttering something about an ice pack.

"She told me to stop and that she knew I was Rachel Berry because Brittany mentioned something to Artie, and then…." Rachel trailed off a moment, clutching her wrist and squeezing her eyes shut.

Quinn pulled her tight, resting her face in the crook of Rachel's neck and whispering that she loved her.

"Then she just shoved me, she shoved me so hard and I lost my balance, and the damn stupid cans in aisle four came crashing on top of me, and now I look like an idiot,"

Santana was on her feet, she was going to fucking kill the bitch.

Kurt reappeared with an icepack and then managed to get Santana to sit back down again.

"I feel stupid," Rachel muttered, "If I didn't have two left feet I could have stood my ground,"

"No," Quinn rounded, "That motherfu…." She cleared her throat as Rachel smirked at her, "That woman is a maniac, San we have to get Brittany out of there,"

Santana's mind was racing, "I want to kill her" she said flatly.

"I didn't hear that," Puck replied eyeing her.

Quinn brushed a strand of Rachel's hair behind her ear, "Do you want to go to the doctor?"

"No," Rachel said shaking her head, "Just kiss me,"

Quinn obliged almost immediately.

"Santana," Kurt said looking at her, "This is going too far,"

Santana wanted to cry, she wanted to throw something, she wanted that day back. She wanted this to have never ever happened.

She needed to give Brittany the book; she needed to lay herself on the line.

* * *

><p><strong><em>BACK THEN<em>**

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Summer, heartbroken and home_

Santana was sitting in her mother's new driveway, with tears streaming down her face as she was reminded for the fifth time that week that information is a powerful thing. Information that her flight had been delayed, coming back home for the summer; information that her mother had moved house without telling her and she spent an extra hour waiting in the middle of Lima to track down where exactly her mother's new residence was. Information from Rachel's phone call that there was a very real possibility that Brittany was seeing Artie again.

This was not happening.

Santana no longer had access to the one person she knew inside and out. She had finished her first year exams, said goodbye to the people she had met and had boarded a plane with a single phone call to her mother.

"_Brittany and I broke up. I don't want to talk about it, I just need to come home," _

Her mother had not said another word.

Santana hadn't spoken to Brittany since that night after the carnival. It was so strange to think that everything she had once shared with someone was now just a fleeting memory of a life that she missed so badly. Where had they gone so wrong, why had it been so hard to hold onto all those feelings that had made them who they were? Those feelings were still there though; they rested in the pits of her stomach and the corners of her heart. Christ she was still so in love with her, some days it was too difficult to even know how to wake up. Brittany was her air, and now Santana felt like the walls were caving in and she was suffocating. Santana reminded herself every day that perhaps the key to moving on was knowing that Brittany was happy, that's all she had ever wanted though wasn't it, for Brittany to be happy? But then Santana would fail to realise is that sometimes, when we say that all we want is to _know_, all we really want is to not have to even think about it.

The Jeep pulled up in front of the house, and Santana realised that her mother had taken to driving Santana's vehicle instead of her old Volvo.

_God was anything hers anymore? _

She watched as her mother piled from the car with grocery bags. Santana had been here not even forty eight hours and the most she'd said to her mother was _"hi"_ and _"I'm not hungry"._ She was still pissed off about this new house, sure it was quaint and reminded her of that trip she took to Spain when she was ten but god, she moved house? She'd come back to a bare empty room with just a few pieces of furniture and her old things in boxes. She had wanted to come home to be able to retreat back into her nest, hoping that she'd find some sort of comfort amongst those familiar pillows. The damn pillows still smelt like Brittany though, so Santana had thrown them out the window.

Santana looked at her mother as she walked towards her, she seemed different. As though she'd aged over the space of a year.  
>"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the move San,"<br>Santana didn't even coherently respond, she was too busy staring up at the house.  
>"I just assumed you would stay in New York,"<br>Santana looked at her "So did I,"  
>"Well help me in with these would you," she said handing her a bag, "We'll cook something and you can keep unpacking boxes,"<br>Whether it was intentional or not, Santana was glad her mother hadn't mentioned anything about Brittany. She was glad that she hadn't brought up the real reason why Santana had come home; because she was heartbroken.

Some people say that the only way to heal a broken heart is time. Time fixes you; it mends the strings of the heart that have been so severely snapped. Just let time take its course and heal you. The only thing people forget to mention. Is what if you need forever?

Santana should have called Tina, or Mercedes or Mike, or even Puck, who last she heard of was relocating to Atlanta at the end of summer. But she couldn't bring herself to do that. Over the course of the day Rachel, Quinn and Kurt had rung her more than five times each. Knowing that they were all calling only made her ache more. It made her ache because it meant that word had spread about the break up, this made it real. This made it official and it was all Santana could do not to crawl into a hole and disappear forever.

Santana had never had her heart broken before. Not like this at least. Her heart ached. It throbbed so much that she wasn't sure spending the summer reorganising a room was going to make it any better. If Santana could tattoo one word over her wrist right now, it most probably would be implode, she felt that way most days, almost like her head and her heart had crashed at an intersection and the ambulance had arrived too late. She sat down on the edge of her bed, this room was so bland, it was so plain and uninviting, how the hell was she meant to mend and heal in a place so uninviting. Sinking into the pillows, Santana placed one hand over her heart, and then closed her eyes; she closed her eyes as tightly as she possibly could until she passed out from the pain.

**. . .**

She would do anything to be back in Glee Club right now, anything at all; everything was so much easier back in high school. Even though she had complained, even though the simplest things turned into the most dramatic, she missed it. High School was easy, the real world, not so much.

"Santana! Santana Lopez?"

Santana looked up from where she had been staring at the McKinley High board, it read that The Cheerio's had won another national title, and she saw Mr Schuester standing in the sunlight. Christ he was still wearing those damn vests but it was the best image she'd seen in a whole year.

"Mr Schuester," she choked out and he was completely caught off guard when she just about fell into his arms.

"Santana?" he said concerned, "What on earth is wrong?"

"My heart," she sobbed, "It's destroyed,"

She didn't even need to explain, he had understood just in those few words.

"Walk with me Santana," he said smiling bleakly.

So she did. She walked with her old Glee Club teacher for at least an hour, just around the school grounds, she mostly poured her heart out and he mostly listened. By the time they had circled and come back to the entrance of the school she was feeling a little bit better.

"Mr Schue," she said frowning, "Are you wearing a wedding ring again?"

He laughed, "I am,"

"You married Miss Pillsbury didn't you," she grinned.

"Like you didn't see it coming Santana,"

_This was 100% true. _

Santana sighed, "I should go,"

"Santana," he said suddenly, "Why don't you sing about how you feel?"

She frowned slightly before Mr Schuester tried to put it simply.

"You sung _Landslide_ to admit how you felt. Why don't you write and sing how you feel now? Might make you feel better?"

Santana thought about Mr Schuester's advice all day. In fact she thought about it all week. She thought about it whilst she painted her walls, she thought about whilst she washed her sheets for the fifty millionth time because she could still smell Brittany on them, and then finally she sat down at the keyboard, that almost killed her because it was something Layla and Michael had given her, and she began to press notes with her fingers. She sat there until she couldn't keep her eyes open, she sat there and she wrote and she played, and she tried to find the beginning of where her heart should start mending.

* * *

><p><strong>. . .<strong>

Brittany stood in the middle of the subway, hoodie drawn over her face, hands clenched in her pocket. It wasn't supposed to be like this, she didn't know what she was doing. She had fought for so long to find happiness with Artie, but she was doing exactly what she had never wanted to do again.

_Settling_.

Every single thing in her life reminded her of Santana. Reminded Brittany of her lips, of the curve in her collarbone, the smoothness of her skin as she would trace her fingertips all the way down until Santana would quiver. This wasn't supposed to be like this. The world was upside down, and she didn't know how to get back on top.

"_Focus on your dancing" _Carly had said. _"Focus on that and that's all that matters,"_

Maybe that would do for now.

Maybe dance was all she needed.


	32. Chapter 31

Little Readers!

Okay so something was mentioned about the last chapter being too rushed, or not thought out properly. So I wanted to take the time to apologise… and explain haha

I'm on the road between _Castelo Branco_ and _Liboa_ in Portugal, which means I pit stop over to gain some internet access and upload whatever I've written (more often than not it's been typed out as text on my iPhone or scribbled on napkins) so chances are I haven't had the chance to check what I last wrote!

This project was mainly to ask what **YOU** wanted to see because I don't believe the depth has been explored to its full potential on the show. So TELL me what you want from me…your wish will always be my command!

For now, I've included this chapter prior to Chapter 31 (which now becomes 32 lol) to make up for those _lost three years_. I know Zoe sounds like a MANIAC (she's meant to though) and I know Santana seems a little weak right now, but she's heart broken and when you're heartbroken you're vulnerable so this is Santana Lopez being vulnerable! HOWEVER the best thing about Santana Lopez? The fire is in her, she just has to find it…. And she will…I promise!

Read up guys…. I'm about to beg some farmer for some free corn cause I don't have cash until the next town!…ekkkk!

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 31<strong>

_Three years in between_

_The motions and the moments_

* * *

><p><em>You'd drift away into the sky if I didn't hold onto you,<br>You'd drift away like a small balloon against a tapestry of blue,  
>Can't you feel me though? Can't you see me?<br>My heart aches for you, and I can't set you free._

Santana scrunched up the piece of paper and threw it over her head. Semester one, year two and she was depressed, and it had absolutely nothing to do with how much work she was already behind on. She stared at the pile of music composition textbooks next to her.

How the hell was she supposed to figure out a major when every single song she wrote was about her break up?

* * *

><p>Brittany winced as the sharpness propelled through her calf, "Christ," she screamed out into the auditorium.<p>

Carly stoped stretching, "You're over doing it Britt, you've been over doing it all summer, relax would you? It's only second year,"

Brittany turned away from her. How could she relax? How could she relax when she had a dance professor on her back like no one's business? She missed Santana; she missed her so fucking much she didn't even know what to do with herself. But she had to play by the rules now; she had to play by the rules of what her dance teacher had told her.

"_No distractions, Brittany, no distractions at all,"_

She was being selfish. Brittany knew she was being selfish. But that's what these years were right? Figure out who you are and go from there?

She stretched out the pain and started the routine all over again. This was all just one big routine, one big routine that she was suffocating under.

* * *

><p>The classroom erupted. Everyone stood on their feet, even her professor. He was smiling broadly at Santana.<p>

_"Now that,"_ he said excitedly, _"is a song,"_

_Yes_ she thought, that was also my heart falling out before you all.

An _A+_ had never felt more painful.

Josh was glaring at her, glaring at her because he knew who the song had been about.

_"__Why don't you just speak to her,"_ he had suggested the other night over pizza and soda. _"You love her don't you?"_

Santana had shrugged, _"I don't know what I want anymore. I just want music. Music heals me,"_

* * *

><p>Artie made her laugh. He was dorky and sweet and always knew how to make her feel better about herself. Julliard had offered him a permanent job as their IT technician, the money was great, and he was still able to be studying part time.<p>

_"Britts all my fees would be paid off in next to no time, I can't say no,"  
><em>

But with him being here it only made things more complicated. Her dance professor also ran the technical department, she had hired Artie.

She wanted Brittany to be with Artie.

"_Brittany Artie suits you, he helps you focus, your ex does not, you do what I say Brittany, you do what I say because I'm shaping your future,"_

Brittany's heart and her head had been divided into two separate things.

Was she actually going to sacrifice Santana for dance? She loved dance though, but she loved Santana, why couldn't she have both. Why didn't she know what else to do?

* * *

><p><em>"Come away with me,"<em> Josh had said at the end of year two, _"Come spend the summer in Los Angeles,"  
><em>

_"I can't,"_ Santana had replied, _"I have to stay here,"_

_"But no one's tying you here,"_ he had replied.

This was the first time that Santana realized she was free.

"_Focus on your dreams Santana, you want to make music, you want to run events that will make a difference? Come to Los Angeles with me,"  
><em>

So she did. She spent the whole summer in L.A. She spent the summer with Quinn. She spent the summer trying to forget about Brittany.

* * *

><p>"<em>Brittany have I done something wrong?"<em>

Brittany looked at Artie across the table.

"_No why?"_

_"Well I want to call you my girlfriend, would you be okay with that?"_

Was she ready?

Did she want to?

What about focusing on her for a while?

"_I guess,"_ she had responded and his face had lit up so much.

It was the best she'd felt about herself all year.

* * *

><p>Santana stood under the paper bark tree hiding in the shade.<p>

She came surrounded by other dances laughing at someone's joke.

They locked eyes.

They locked hearts.

Maybe it wasn't over.

"_Santana come here,"_ Josh had called.

"_Brittany Artie's waiting,"_ Carly had called.

Maybe it _was_ over.

* * *

><p><em>"You will dance in the winter musical Brittany, because you're one of the best in our class. There'll be talent agents in the audience don't be a fool,"<br>_

The words of her professor rang in her head all week.

Santana was running that. She would have to spend time with Santana.

Awkward looks.

Words unsaid.

A gap created by stubbornness.

_"You say the words and I'll come,"  
><em>

_"But I want you to say it first,"  
><em>

In the end nothing was said.

* * *

><p><em>"Can we still be friends?"<br>_

An opening and Santana had blown it.

Once chance to tell Brittany that they would never just be friends and she had turned her back.

Was music more important now?

When had their crafts become more of a priority than each other?

Artie had supported Brittany.

Why hadn't Santana?

Miles apart and yet so damn close, she couldn't see the thread that tied them together, but it was still there.

She could still feel it.

* * *

><p>Third year had started.<p>

Brittany could dance in any way shape of form. She lived her life with her friends. She had a steady boyfriend. Brittany was happy.

Wasn't she?

This is what happiness was wasn't it?

Then why did tears fall from her eyes when she was alone ?

* * *

><p>It hadn't hurt as much before. She had known but chosen to ignore it.<p>

But when Santana saw _wheels_ lean over and kiss Brittany from where she sat on the opposite side of the yard it all hit home. It hit hard like school children do at the end of the day.  
>So she had decided to drink that night. Santana had taken the scotch from Josh's dorm and drowned in it. She had swallowed it all until she couldn't possibly feel anymore.<p>

Mistake one.

Mistake two; allowing Julie into her dorm.

Mistake three; sleeping with her.

* * *

><p>Graduation was coming. It was heading towards them like a burning planet does on the south side of the universe. Brittany had a plan she knew what she needed to focus on.<p>

Then Rachel Berry called…

* * *

><p><strong>P.s Little Readers :)<strong> these three years are meant to be chaotic. Becuase Brittany and Santana needed to figure out who THEY were before they could even hope to be with eachother.

Was Brittany just using Artie as an excuse?

They held on for so long because when it's your soulmate, no matter how hard you try to cut the thread it wont right? The string binds you, even if your miles apart!


	33. Chapter 32

Little Readers!

I seriously smile at how many feelings you guys have! Wow!

Have faith in your writer :) I promise the horizon is coming!

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 32<strong>

_Burning bright on the south side of no where_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Santana sat on her mother's porch, with her legs stretched out in the sun. She had managed to find shorts that weren't too revealing as to be inappropriate for people passing by on the street. The sun felt so good on her skin, she rarely had any time to work on a golden glow, so today she had dedicated most of the morning to it. Quinn had tied herself to Rachel, not letting her out of her sight. Kurt had also threatened to egg Zoe's house, so Santana had to literally hide the address.

Production was a week away, Mr Schuester had never even drilled them this hard, but Rachel put it down to being out of show business practise.  
><em>"You're all like rusted robots; you need to get loose,"<em> she had said yesterday.

It was the first time Santana had ever heard her use such a casual sentence, it had made her laugh. Rachel's bruising had mostly healed, but her arm was still in pain. Quinn had healed her though, with soft kisses here and there and holding Rachel in her arms whenever she could. Maybe that's what Santana needed to do; maybe it had nothing to do with anything but the way she could hold Brittany.

Brittany managed to create electricity by touching her, Santana wondered if she could do the same. Santana had the notebook on her lap, she had been scrawling words across the page, mostly just _S loves B_ because she was a little slumped as to what to write.

The words were there, they were swimming around in her mind, but she was petrified of the very fact that she was going to give it to her. She was so scared she felt she wanted to just lean over the side of the railing and vomit.  
>Santana's phone rang, catching her off guard slightly before she picked it up from where it had been sitting beside her.<br>_Speak of the love of her life.  
><em>

"Britt," she said smiling into the phone.

"San I have this craving for bread," she said without even saying hello.

"What?" Santana asked, tracing a love heart across the page, god she would never get tired of her voice.

"Like I really want bread, not just a roll, I keep thinking that there's such thing as a breadstick,"

"Jesus Brittsticks," Santana murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing," Santana responded, "Hey what are you doing right now?"

"Craving breadsticks apparently," Brittany replied, Santana could tell she was grinning at herself.

"Well stop craving breadsticks!" Santana laughed.

"Is someone jealous that I'm not craving her?"

Santana nearly choked, _god all mighty was Brittany flirting with her?_

"I'm very jealous you're not craving me, come to my house!"

Brittany laughed, "I'll be over when Artie gets back from work, because Zoe is out and I don't have a car,"

Santana hated that she relied on them, what she hated even more is that Brittany was still so oblivious too how much Santana wanted to kill her cousin.

"I'll see you soon," Brittany said laughing again.

"Maybe I'll get you breadsticks" Santana smiled before hanging up.

Santana stared down at the book, this would be okay, and she would just hand it to her. Make her read and then let her soak everything in. Then just see what she said. Easy enough right? Or maybe she could just stuff her mouth full of breadsticks before she had the chance to even respond to anything.

"Santana!" her mother called, "Come help me this!"

Santana pulled herself up off the chair and disappeared inside. She found her mother struggling with a washing basket and she couldn't help but laugh,

_"Tener cuidado_ mama! Don't fill it up so much!"

"Querida, Kurt has more clothes than you do!"

Santana smirked, this was extremely accurate.

What was also accurate was that he was currently at a birthing seminar with Gabby and Puck. Lord their child was going to be consumed in Kurt Hummel, _lucky thing_.

Santana managed to help her mother get the washing basket down into the yard where she began hanging out clothes. They were clothes that Santana loved though, _Burberry, House of Harlot, Liberty_, all hints of London, all pieces of Kurt.

"Querida," her mother said suddenly, "Can you smell that?"

Santana inhaled slightly, it smelt like smoke. Frowning she looked back up at the house.

"Quick Santana make sure I haven't left the oven on,"

Santana took up off the stairs and raced into the kitchen, frantically she searched for any signs of fire, but there was none, the house was silent, everything was

switched off. She could still smell damn smoke. Twirling on her feet, she backed out onto the front porch.

Santana froze.

No words came to mind.

No movement, no nothing.

All that was in front of her was a woman standing in her driveway, a book burning in front of her.

"Hi Santana," she said, glaring at her.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Santana reared, this was Zoe.

Shoulder length brown hair, bright blue eyes, smug grin on her face.

"Oh nothing, just letting you know I'm aware of what's been going on,"

Santana stared at the book, christ almighty the notebook; this maniac had just ruined everything. _Again_.

"I'm calling the police," Santana said.

"You could do that Santana, but by then I'll be safe at home with Brittany who has amnesia. So when the police ask if I've been home the whole time, she'll say I was. Because granted she won't remember anything,"

"You bitch I was just on the phone to her,"

Zoe eyes narrowed, "God you don't let up do you? First this Berry's girls production and now this stupid book, quite touching some of things you wrote Santana, such a shame Brittany won't ever see them,"  
>Santana couldn't actually grasp what was happening.<p>

Was this even real, was this bitch even real?

"I will make Brittany remember,"

"No you won't," Zoe replied, "Because enough is enough, I let the games go on for too long. You don't think I haven't known your plan this whole time. When Brittany would sneak out to go for walks or coffee, get real Lopez, I'm completely aware what you and your little friends have been doing,"

She kicked the book; it had completely disintegrated to ash, and was still smoking. Santana felt like her heart was on fire, it felt like an earthquake had erupted in her stomach and now more than ever she wanted to be sick.

"You won't see Brittany again. You understand? You will never see her again. Go back to New York Santana, it's over,"

Santana went to run for her, beat the shit out of her, but the book stopped her from doing so. The book represented her heart; and right now her heart lay on her mother's driveway, blackened and burned.

**. . .**

Ever since her parents divorced, Santana had always known that everything is far more complicated than what people think. People only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice that you make or those around you make. All these choices can either create or break you. People question fate, and they question destiny but what everyone fails to realise is that these things exist, it's just what you create for yourself, and even if this world will go on and on like a never ending movie, you have to realise that you're only here for a fraction of second. Most of your time compared to the life of the universe is spent being dead or not born. So whilst you're alive, _you need be alive_. Instead of spending your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along, you should search for something that makes you feel connected, something that makes you feel whole and loved. The truth is, if Santana was really honest with herself, she would know that her shining star was Brittany. She was back then, she is now, and she always will be. It's not that Santana believes everything happens in spite of something else, because the world isn't perfect. It's chaotic, and that's exactly how the universe provides us all a little contrast. There has to be a few holes in the road. It's how life is. So now, she was just going to have to find another way to convince Brittany that she was hers.

These ideas would be put into brainstorming pending her hour long breakdown in the Berry's lounge room, with Quinn rubbing her back and Rachel attempting to dab her swollen blotchy eyes, even if every time she did so, Santana would just cry more tears and flood Quinn's lap all over again. She hadn't even managed to tell the whole story.

"San, please," Quinn begged, "Just one minute, just spill it all out in one minute and then we can go from there,"

"She…burnt…" Santana choked, "Zoe….burnt….the….book,"

Quinn sat still, from where she had been leaning closer to Santana to be able to distinguish what she was saying. She was horrified. She snapped her eyes straight to Rachel. Rachel didn't seem exactly phased though, she had one of those sheepish looks on her face, that Quinn had always identified as a _Rachel Berry knows something I don't face_.

"Oh Santana," Rachel said, "Just wait here,"

Santana was still lying in a heap in Quinn's arms, she couldn't even move, let alone leave. Quinn was so good at reassurance, you felt safe with her, even if you were on the brink of having your heart splintered into fifty million pieces.

"Shhhh San," she whispered, "We've got you, we're not letting go,"

Rachel came back into the room within minutes, she was carrying a binder folder full of pages.

"Santana you know me well enough to understand that all of your business is always _my _business. So you could call this a marginal form of stalking and prying into your deepest darkest thoughts, or you could call it protecting the assets,"

Santana frowned, "Starch when I'm crying my eyes out, you need to choose better sentence structure, because I don't understand a word you're saying,"  
>Rachel took a deep breath, sitting down beside Santana and Quinn on the lounge. She pulled out the pages that had been tucked away in the folder.<p>

"Santana I've been photocopying everything you've been writing,"

The lump caught in Santana's throat again as she stared at the pages, her handwriting scrawled across them in photocopied ink.

"It's all here, except for possibly the last entry or so, I hadn't been able to sneak it from your room,"

For the second time that day Santana had no words and no movement, she just burst into tears all over again and hugged her.

_Rachel freaking Berry, her best freaking friend._

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Three years fast forward, college graduation is almost here_

Josh had been right that first year in college, when he had said that three years would be over before Santana had even had a chance to blink.

Fourth year was closing, it was heading towards them like a high speed train and soon she was going to be graduating and having to grow the absolute hell up because she didn't have the security of college to fall back on. Then she'd realise that she was nearly twenty two and the world had never been scarier. Julliard had been her home. It had helped her heal when she returned for the second year. It was vibrant and diverse and it lived in New York City, the hub of endless opportunities to experience artistic culture. There were a lot of things Santana was going to miss about College. She was going to miss Mr McCormack her Management 101 professor. In the second year he gave all his students his cell phone number, because now that they weren't annoyingly '_fresh off the high school boat'_, they could call him "_in case they ever needed to get bailed out of jail"._ Mr McCormack wasn't at Julliard for the money, he was there for the students; he was there to teach.

Santana's dorm had become her sanctuary; living without a roommate had turned out to be a heaven send. Josh was over nearly every night with pizza, study guides and video games and eventually brought Julia. Santana would sit for hours watching them argue over how to pronounce things in Chinese. She would miss her red painted walls and the cushions that had developed a particular moulded outline of a person, from how many of her class mates would just crash in her dorm for the night because she had _working_ heating in winter and air conditioning in summer. Santana was actually going to miss the school paper. _Julliard Daily_ had taught her more about doing well, messing things and the stress of living life than she had learnt in any other class, and she was only on the music column, organising new playlists to publish each week. Santana was going to miss working at the little Italian restaurant on the corner of her block. She'd resigned not even a week ago. Santana was hardly in a building an hour before she had to leave and walk elsewhere. So she was going to miss walking around the campus. Julliard was beautiful, it was serene and comfortable; what if she went out and ended up with a desk job?

Santana had written an album full of songs, three of which she had performed as her major. Assessments had been completed, most of her practical exams over and done with, and now she just had to worry about graduating. Which she shouldn't be worried about, because it wasn't like she wouldn't. _Santana would graduate_. It's just she was petrified of tripping on stage. She wasn't the same person she had been when she had first walked in those doors; she had a clutter of friends that she respected and she believed that her twin was instilled in Josh, who last night had decided to dump on her that he was moving to China. She hadn't believed him until he's shown her an airfare ticket and suddenly college really was ending and everyone was going their separate ways.

It was just like high school again, when the hell was anyone going to become a permanent fix in her life?

Santana had, had all but one conversation with Brittany since they had broken up at the end of the first year. It had been one Sunday night, when they were sitting in Julliard's grand auditorium, because Santana was organising the winter musical, and Brittany was performing in it. Santana would have literally given her left arm to have Rachel Berry organise the thing instead.

"_Can we still be friends?"_ Brittany had asked after what had felt like hours of silence.

Santana had looked at her and wondered if anyone could ever truly be friends again after a break up. They had given each other everything; they had been with each other through the most crucial periods of growing up. They had learnt everything about each other, everything that mattered, and everything that was insignificant but it didn't matter because it was one more thing to know.

As they had stood staring at each other in the auditorium, they knew that all the _I love you's_ had been replaced with awkward glances and quick hello's when passing each other in corridors. All the colourful conversations where they would laugh at each other had become dull and painful. Even if these years had passed, and they had developed into adults, there were still their inner teenagers inside them, reminding each other of why they fell in love in the first place. Santana hadn't answer her, she hadn't known how to.

Santana's phone rang, and she moved from where she had been dragging the last song on her playlist into _drop box_ to send to Josh. He could mix any of her songs and turn them into dance beats even though Santana's voice was raspy. It was fantastic.

She glanced at her phone and smiled broadly.

"Rachel Berry," she said into the receiver.

"You do not have an excuse," Rachel said flatly.

Santana frowned, "What?"

"It's literally my last frat party before my graduation, Santana and I have not been drunk once. Four long years is a long time when you were never an alcoholic."

Santana laughed at her, "Berry what are you on about?"

"I want you to drive here for the weekend and come to my last party with me, I've already checked your schedule, you last exam isn't for another week, you have plenty of time to get to Connecticut and back this weekend,"

Santana raised her eyebrows, "Rachel, you're stalking skills scare me sometimes,"

"And you're bringing Brittany,"

Santana literally choked on air, "I'm sorry come again?"

"Enough is enough Santana Lopez, I've sat idle by while you two tip toe around each other for three years, it's not happening. I've already called her. If you two do not attend this with me and are not on my campus….oh Santana Yale is so amazing," she added side-tracked, "….Then I will never speak to either of you again,"

Santana huffed, "Rachel you do realise this is the very definition of emotional blackmail,"

"I'm past the point of caring,"

"And what about money Rachel? How do I afford…"

"I rang your father explained you had a benefit, he's paying for a hire car,"

Santana's jaw dropped, "Rachel Berry you cannot just ring my father…"

"He's a doctor isn't he? He saves lives? I AM IN A CRITICAL CONDITION!"

"Christ," Santana muttered, "The drama queen will never leave you,"

Even on the other end of the phone, Santana could tell Rachel was grinning.

**. . .**

Someone once told Santana that the worst way to miss someone was to have them sitting beside you and know that you can't have them. She wanted to reach out and touch Brittany so badly, even more than that she wanted their eyes to lock. She wanted their eyes to lock in the same way they had in the corridors of McKinley High, in the same way when they had first kissed. Santana just wanted to lean into Brittany's nearest ear and whisper how much she still loved her.

"I told you we should have filled up at the last gas station. Fuel was cheaper there,"  
>Brittany piled back into the four runner that had been sent to Santana from her father, for the weekend.<br>Santana rolled her eyes "Okay well why don't you drive? Oh wait I forgot you can't drive stick,"  
>Brittany glared at her.<br>Santana sighed before pulling back out onto the highway, on route to Connecticut. God if there was one person in this world that she had missed these past three years more than life itself, it was _Rachel freaking Berry._

**. . .**

Santana stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, trying to convince herself that she wasn't that drunk.

"Santana," Rachel said bursting through the door, she half tripped, half skidded and managed to literally fall in the bathtub.

"Oh where are the bubbles?" She asked.

"Rachel", Santana said, "you cannot be in a bath you'll drown."

"But there's no water?"

"That doesn't matter,"

Rachel smiled sheepishly, "Are there stars in the bathtub San? Oh wait yes there is, because I'm in it,"

Santana laughed at the size of her ego, "You," she said sliding down onto the tiles, "Are a star meets…" she paused, "Rach…. STARCH!"

Rachel clapped her hands; this would only be a name thought of whilst so completely intoxicated.

Santana's head was spinning in such a good way it was almost as if she could stay at this damn frat party forever. Rachel gasped as she stared at the bathroom door knob,

"Santana the doorknob is watching me,"

Santana rolled her eyes, standing up again and bending over in an attempt to pull Rachel up.

This failed, and they both sprawled onto the tiled floor again.

The door opened with a crash and Brittany pranced inside, holding a milk carton and a witches hat. They had argued nearly the entire road trip down until _Songbird_ had come on the radio classics and Brittany had completely stilled, so much so that she had to look out the window. Santana knew she was crying though, and it took fifteen minutes for Brittany to turn to her and say she was sorry. By the time they had pulled into the visitor parking on Yale's Campus, Brittany had been holding Santana's hand for over half an hour.

"Jesus Britt," Santana said eyeing the orange witches hat in her hand, "Where the hell did you get that?"

Brittany raised it to her lips, "ROAD WORKS are WORKING!"

_Deaf. Fucking deaf._

"I'm so drunk," Santana whispered.

"I'm so horny" Brittany responded, "Santana I miss your body so much sometimes I don't even know why we broke up,"

"Because you're _fucking _idiot," Rachel slurred.

"100% true," Brittany agreed and she smacked the witches hat to her face.

"Brittsticks!" Santana said, pulling it away from her, "Don't concuss yourself!"

"Why not? I deserve it, what kind of an idiot breaks up with you?"

"Someone that rhymes with titts," Rachel said, "Britts titts!" she paused, "I love your…."

"Rachel!" Santana smirked pushing her away, god she was worse than that road trip back in high school.

"I want Quinn," Rachel hiccupped.

Santana stopped edging closer to Brittany, their hands were becoming so dangerously close to touching places that they hadn't in so long, it was all she could do not to burn.

"What?"

Rachel shrugged, "I've always wanted Quinn, I want her so badly that I accidently wrote her name in one of my stage management exams. Instead of writing Queen Exterior I wrote Quinn exterior. I would _fuck_ her name,"

Santana choked, "Rachel Berry don't be so crude!"

"Oh San!" Rachel responded, "As if you haven't been thinking about Brittany all this time, I bet you mastur…."

"Stop!" Brittany said pulling Santana towards her, "I cannot take this,"

"Britt sticks pull it together," Santana responded pushing her off slightly, but Brittany had already instilled the fire, and there was nothing she could do to distinguish it.

"I can't pull it together Santana I have so… many…. Brittana feelings"

Rachel jumped up suddenly, "IT STUCK, I win! Brittana for the WIN,"

"Both of you shut up!" Santana groaned, _Jesus enough with the name joining!_

There wasn't enough time to stop Rachel from tripping on the witches hat, she landed with a thud in the bathtub again, wrapped in the shower curtain and Brittany and Santana in hysterics.

**. . .**

Santana put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from making a noise. Brittany between her was completely unbearable in all the right ways.  
>"Britt," she moaned.<br>Christ she couldn't help it, making love to her was like spinning in circles, it left her dizzy, smiling and then Brittany would make her fall to pieces.

Santana could feel Brittany smiling between kisses, as she retraced her trail up the length of Santana's body with her mouth, finally reaching Santana's lips again.

"Can we make love forever?"

"Can we be in love forever?" Brittany responded, kissing the corner of Santana's lips, "I never stopped San,"

Santana quivered as she felt Brittany slide her hand back between her legs and suddenly she was spinning in dizzy circles all over again

**. . .**

At one point in the middle of the night, when the alcohol had worn off, Santana curled herself into Brittany. Through the darkness she assumed they were stretched on the fold out bed in Rachel's dorm, but lord knows where Rachel was because Santana couldn't hear her gentle snores. Brittany's skin was like fire burning against her, but then at the same time it was soft and delicate and made her light headed. She didn't know what this meant though. She had no idea what any of this meant.

Brittany stirred slightly, turning and realising that Santana was looking at her.

"You okay?" she whispered.

Santana shrugged, "What is this?"

Brittany leant into her, kissing her lips softly, "This is what it should be,"

Santana sighed, "Brittany Pierce you make me do the worst things,"

"I don't think last night was the worst," she whispered.

"You cheated on Artie!"

Brittany slid on top of her, pushing Santana back into the mattress and running her mouth over her neck, "He's just a stupid boy," she grinned.

Santana smirked, "I'm so in love with you," she muttered.

Brittany was more intoxicating than damn alcohol. The way she could so easily sink through Santana and make her forget everything she was saying was a power no one else had over her.

"Brittany," Santana said again, "Brittany seriously what about Artie?"

"We have been on and off Santana it's not what you think, I felt sorry for him, and he'd been so good in me helping with different things over the years, I didn't want to break his heart."

"Brittany I've passed you in corridors with glances and that's all, it got to stage where we didn't even speak,"

Brittany bit her lip, "Santana I was so lost for so long, I thought I was doing the right thing, I don't deserve you,"

Santana couldn't breathe, mainly because all the could taste was Brittany's scent and she just wanted to make love to her over and over again.

"Do you want to know why I couldn't be with him?" Brittany murmured.

Santana looked at her, "Why?"

"Sometimes when he would touch me…"

"Oh god Britts please don't, I can't handle the imagery,"

Brittany kissed her impatiently, "Listen to me!"

Santana was quiet but still felt sick.

"He would touch me and I would have my eyes closed as tightly as possible and I would somehow always say your name,"

Santana smirked, "Why because you fantasized about me?"

Brittany looked at her seriously, "No because you're the only one in this world who has hands with the power to write stories over my body. Stories that no one will ever understand,"

Brittany had grown up. Just like that she wasn't this wayward college student with no idea. She knew what she wanted. She wanted Santana.

Santana pulled at her lips again sinking herself into her all over again.

Maybe that's the whole point of having sex with someone you're in love with. It becomes so much more than just the very definition. You're giving your dignity to them, you're surrendering yourself to them and you're hoping to god they'll take you. Santana had held up her white flag. She had held it in the air and Brittany, as she had done so many times before, had taken it from her. Taken the flag; held it in her palms and taken control. Brittany would always have control over her. Santana would always surrender to Brittany in any given circumstance.

"San," Brittany said, as she settled back into her arms.

"Mmmmm?"

"Can we just finish college together, and just be together?"

Santana smirked in the night, "You don't have to ask that Brittany, I've been here all along,"


	34. Chapter 33

Little Readers!

I hope I did some justification in this chapter, particularly with the Santana and Brittany getting back together so quickly after three years. Pay attention to the dialogue, it explains it...

Court

* * *

><p><em><strong>CHAPTER 32<strong>_

_Drowning in stage light, to sing the one thing I will always mean_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Sometimes it's easier to speak in nonsense than actually say something that makes sense. Sometimes what doesn't make any sense is really the thing that makes the most sense in the world. Santana couldn't understand how anyone could be lost in the world. Where ever you turn, where you go, you will always be somewhere. Even if you find yourself at the end of a deserted corridor, the top of a frost covered mountain, or the bottom of a darkened movie theatre, you are always somewhere. You've just never been there before, and more importantly you never thought you could be. A week had passed since those moments in which Zoe had laid down the law. Brittany hadn't returned her phone calls, and she'd stopped showing up to any of their houses. No one had heard from her since that afternoon at Santana's mother's house. For such a small town, Lima hid them well.

A police officer had issued a court order that Santana was not to be within fifty feet of Zoe Pierce's property. She had sat down and read the court order and suddenly everything had made sense. Zoe was a barrister for the state of Ohio. Everything she had been doing, she had been getting away with because she knew the ins and the outs of how to do so.

Rachel was determined to continue with the show.

"_Brittany will come,"_ she had said the other night over dinner. Takeout pizza, soda and Puck fiddling with the guitar, the moment would have been perfect, if only Santana could shake the feelings mounting in the pits of her stomach, the feelings that regardless of what was going to happen, she would tell Brittany the truth.

Quinn had agreed, _"She'll come Santana, she'll come, she'll see us and she'll realize,"_

But what if a realization wasn't going to be enough. They had fought for so long over the years to come to terms with what each other had wanted, what was right, what was meant to be. They were meant to be together weren't they? It was Santana and Brittany, Brittany and Santana; that was how it was supposed to be?

The auditorium was full.

_Naturally._

This was a Rachel Berry Production. This was a Rachel Berry production _in Ohio._

"Deep breaths," Tina smiled from where she stood behind the curtain, holding Puck's hand, he tilted his head beside her, to look at Santana, "Deep breaths," he agreed.

Santana stared at the red curtain in front of her, three acts down, they were onto the last. They had received standing ovations for the entire production. Kurt had made the entire front row cry. This felt like Glee Club, this felt exactly the same way it had back then, back in high school with Mr Schuester smiling up at them. Only Brittany wasn't beside her. Brittany wasn't beside her and this made it feel wrong.

"Santana you have not lost your fire," Quinn whispered beside her.

"Q, I can't stop crying, I didn't kick Zoe's ass, so yes I've lost my fire,"

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Zoe has used the law to get what she wants. Do you want to go to jail? Look can we just get the last act over and done with?"

Santana bit her lip. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to imagine the feel of Brittany's touch back in high school, back in Glee Club before every performance, when Brittany would lean as closely as she could to Santana and whisper that no matter what happened, she was already proud of her.

All those clippings she had kept over the years from Santana's career, all the moments she had stood in line waiting for Santana to sign autographs before she finally got to Brittany, holding out an album that she'd bought for the fiftieth time.

"_Why are you standing in line?"_ Santana would smirk, _"Why are you all the way at the back?"_

"_I'll always be the last one standing,"_ she would smile, _"because I'm your greatest fan,"_

Santana had reasoned that there was only one word to describe what she was going through this year.

A storm.

She'd been struck, and battered and twisted and turned in every way possible way. There'd been a calm serenity that had wrapped itself over them before the final crux of the storm had hit. With every storm you're left with debris and anguish and questions on how to rebuild, but you're also forced to see what matters. Storms open your eyes; they help you regain your sight. Santana had been blind for so long and yet now she could see. Brittany was at the end of the storm. It would be brighter, Santana would feel lighter, she could feel it now, just one more song; one more song meant that freedom was only seconds away.

**. . .**

They were on their feet, they were screaming, people had their hands in the air swaying. Santana could see Rachel beaming from where she stood next to Quinn, that final note had nearly sent everyone off the edge.

Quinn looked at Santana, it was her turn, she had to finish the show, with the ending song. Santana walked to the microphone, poised like statue in the centre of the stage, the lights bright like headlights. Santana inhaled deeply, the silence of the auditorium fell over the crowd like how a blanket wraps itself tightly around a child. The colours of the light above the amplifiers played across her skin, played like the keys on the piano that had begun.

Santana looked to Brad.

_God Brad_. The pianist in high school.

Rachel had plucked him from the classroom not even three days ago.

"_You know the song,"_ she had said, _"You know it and you will play it,"_

Santana could hear it now, she could hear it and it was her turn to exhale the lyrics.

There she was.

Rachel had said she would come.

And she had.

Brittany stood at the end of the aisles.

Shadows played across her face,.

_God that face._

That face that looked both confused and frightened all at the same time.

_Just listen to this baby, listen to this, here me, here us_.

_For you, there'll be no more crying,  
>For you, the sun will be shining,<br>And I feel that when I'm with you,  
>It's alright, I know it's right<em>

Their eyes were locked, Brittany was staring at her, staring at her with the same intensity she had back in high school. Keep going Santana, just keep going.

_To you, I'll give the world  
>to you, I'll never be cold<br>'Cause I feel that when I'm with you,  
>It's alright, I know it's right.<em>

I will give you the world. I did give you the world. We had our world. Don't you remember our world baby?

_And the songbirds are singing,  
>Like they know the score,<br>And I love you, I love you, I love you,  
>Like never before.<br>_

I love you now more than I ever have. I love you more now because I see that you're it. No one else baby, no one else will ever mean as much to me as you do.

_And I wish you all the love in the world,  
>But most of all, I wish it from myself.<br>_

He can love you if he wants. If you need to love him, tell me and I will walk away. But nothing will ever stop that feeling, that feeling that all the love you deserve, all the love you'll ever need, comes from me baby.

_And the songbirds keep singing,  
>Like they know the score,<br>And I love you, I love you, I love you,  
>Like never before, like never before.<em>

I'm your songbird Brittany. I'm your songbird, I always have been.

The auditorium was on their feet again, they were on their feet and throwing roses, as though this had been the most normal part of the show. As though Rachel had not made a slight adjustment not even 24 hours ago, in the hopes Brittany would see this. The machines were fired and snow rained down on the stage. Snowflakes made from Styrofoam littered the auditorium. Santana did not take her eyes off her. Eyes watering, lips quivering, Brittany turned from the aisle and disappeared into the depths of the exit.

Santana ran from the stage, she ran up through the aisle, through the people cheering her, trying to speak to her, they didn't understand, they didn't understand that she was running after the love of her life.

Do you believe in fate? Do you believe that every single moment in your life has at least one thing in common. That they weren't an accident. Those moments were meant to happen. They were carefully planned, organized and calculated by something neither you or anyone else can control.

Maybe life is like a train. You're sitting in a carriage, riding through these platforms that become the stages of your life. If you found that one person would you get off the train to follow them? Would they be waiting at every stop?

Brittany was in front of Santana, she was crying so hard, there wasn't even a word that could possibly make her feel any less. Santana just wanted to strip it all from her. Just strip the canvas that had confusion spilled across it, and leave it blank, leave it blank and go back to the beginning, but she couldn't, this was it.

"Why did you sing that song?" Brittany choked out, "That wasn't in the script?"

Santana moved closer to her, but Brittany backed away, it sent stab wounds through Santana's heart.

"Because you know that song," she murmured.

Brittany was shaking her head, "Zoe said all this stuff about you, she said all this stuff and I don't know what to believe,"

"Then why are you here Brittany?"

Their eyes had locked again, "I don't know," she whispered.

"You're mine," Santana said suddenly without even asking her mind whether she should say it. Too bad, her heart had taken over and there was no turning back.

Brittany was hugging herself, trying to hug herself free of the walls that had suffocated her.

"I don't understand, I'm not gay, I'm not in love with a girl, my parents didn't want that, they died because of that,"

"No they didn't!" Santana begged, "They were killed in a plane crash Brittany, they were killed in an accident, you had nothing to do with it,"

"God Zoe said you'd do this, stop, just stop!"

"Brittany,"

Santana jumped startled by another voice, Rachel had piled from the auditorium, Quinn behind her.

"Brittany please listen to us, listen to Santana, this has been all a lie, you're marrying Santana!"

Brittany was shaking her head, "This doesn't make sense,"

"Of course it doesn't , they're lying,"

Santana snapped her head to see Zoe round the corner, "Brittany we have to go home now, these people are manipulating you,"

"You're not taking her anywhere," Santana seethed.

"That's not you're decision Santana, you're not her family,"

Zoe went to grab Brittany's wrist but Rachel made a run for her, "Don't touch her," she yelled.

Sometime moments happen and there's not a thing you can do to stop them. Moments when your heart catches in your throat, and you do the one thing that you need to when the people you love are put in danger. It's a basic human instinct called a defense mechanism. The claws come out or the fists curl and you'll do anything that's necessary because you've just been backed into a corner.

Santana snapped. A jolt of electricity vibrated through her veins and twisted itself like an angry snake about to explode into millions of shooting stars. Zoe went to hit Rachel, Santana got there first. Her fist went ploughing into the right side of Zoe's cheek and collided with the sound of cartilage and bones cracking under some unhinged force they were not expecting. Zoe hit the ground in seconds.

"Don't touch my best friend bitch,"

Rachel was so shocked she couldn't even formulate words.

Zoe was staggering backwards towards Brittany again, "I told you they were dangerous,"

The look on Brittany's face said everything. It said fear.

"Brittany," Santana said, "Brittany I'm not the bad person here, I'm not the one who's going to hurt you,"

"Why did you do that," Brittany trembled, "You're supposed to be gentle, you're supposed to be the one that keeps me safe,"

"No," Santana said as Zoe smirked behind her.

Zoe pulled her away, just as the hordes of people poured from the auditorium. They were laughing, they were talking and yelling and suddenly bodies separated Santana from Brittany, they separated her from Quinn and Rachel, until she really was backed into a wall. Backed into the brick wall of McKinley High who stood behind her, like soldiers do to their commander. Only Santana was not commander in chief, her plan had failed, her battle was lost.

"RACHEL! QUINN! SANTANA, OH GOD QUICK SOMEONE WITH A PHONE!"

Santana ears snapped to where Puck was carrying Gabby from the doors, Gabby face was contorted, Kurt beside them hollering breathing techniques.

"Labour!" Mercedes was gasping, "Gabby is in labour,"

_Jesus Christ. _

Santana's legs gave out beneath her, it was too much. All of it was too much.

She sunk to her knees, she wanted darkness to consume her, her brain was dead, her heart was torn, and the light had left her eyes. The light had left her eyes when Brittany was pulled from her vision.

"Sanbags what the hell do you think you're doing, get up,"

Santana felt herself being pulled upwards, blinded by tears she couldn't even see straight, she was dreaming, she had to be dreaming.

Sue Slyvester was standing before her, shaking her, "Get yourself together, where the hell did your backbone go, you call that a punch? Where's your touch gone fake boobs!"

"I do not have fake boobs!" she snapped angrily.

"Quickly," Sue replied ignoring her and marching her towards a black sedan.

Santana turned around, "Rachel!" she called, but Rachel was already on the phone.

"911, we need an ambulance, gate ways have been opened!"

Quinn huffed and snatched the phone away from her as Rachel bent down to help Kurt with Gabby's breathing.

Puck was frozen.

"One Mrs Gabby Puckerman, she's in labour, contractions are…." Quinn bent down slightly, "roughly seven minutes apart,"

"Quinn!" Rachel said, "You said you would never look at another woman's vagina,"

Quinn moaned, "Hurry!" she called into the receiver.

She whirled to Santana, "Go get Brittany," she said urgently.

"But Gab…."

"We've got it San!" Tina yelled, "Go!"

"You heard them," Sue said grabbing her collar and pushing her into the vehicle,

"Coach Sylvester!" Santana started but she was cut short as Sue kicked the engine and reversed the vehicle out of the parking lot with a squeal.

"I am your coach," she agreed, flooring the accelerator, "aint no damn hussy going to mess with my cheerio's,"

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_College is almost over, you want me but the world wants you_

There is an invisible writing on the back of your diploma or your degree, or that piece of paper that says graduated. In case you didn't bring lemon juice to decode it, it says: "_you survived, you did it, you've got what you needed, the earth is hiring"_. What Santana also believed it said was, _"Hi you've now got to go out and find a place to live, a job in the interim that it takes you to find whatever career path you studied for, oh and p.s you thought college was hard; get ready, you're in for the rollercoaster of your life"._

It had come in the mail, four days before graduation; it had come in a great big yellow envelope with her and Brittany's name on the front. Santana had looked at the send receive stamp on the back and realised that it had been sent from her father's practice.

_San,_

_I know you want to make it on your own._

_I know that you and Brittany will do this anyway,_

_But for now, just take these will you, take these and build a home together._

Keys had fallen into her lap. Then her jaw had dropped. Her jaw had dropped at the realisation her father had found them a place to live.

**. . .**

At Santana's last seminar for the year, Professor McCormack had addressed them not as students but as adults.

"_I want to tell you a story,"_ he had said, "_about connecting the dots, or rather connecting the moments of your life. You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something, either your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. I want you, all of you, to always remember that you should never __let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. You should always have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become… Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my pleasure to assure you, that you can be, whoever you want to be,"_

**. . .**

"So we're taking things slow now?"

Santana had shrugged, "This needs to be done right,"

Brittany had grumbled, "Santana we stuffed around for three years!"

"Yes!" Santana had replied exasperated, "And then all of a sudden we're back together in a heartbeat,"

Brittany seemed to see the logic, "But how does any of that even matter when we should have just stayed together in the first place,"

"You're contradicting yourself,"

"San, I didn't even know what that word meant until second semester,"

Santana had kissed her, "Please, for me, just do this for me?"

"Slow and steady," Brittany had breathed in, "Slow and steady to re learn each other,"

Then Brittany had frowned and Santana had melted at how much she was frowning,

"Baby?" she asked.

"No one is allowed to have you though, we're slow, and we're working on that thing called feelings, but I don't want to share you with anyone,"

"I've always been yours, when will you realise that,"

Brittany had smirked, "When you forgive me for ever thinking my life could be lived without you,"

In those days after graduation, in those weeks after leaving Julliard, that first month moving everything into Apartment 52, Eighth Avenue, Santana had spent nights wrapped in Brittany. All those moments had seemed too heavy for loud voices, as though every single word whispered between them had been too fragile for sudden movements.

They had been caught in the stillness of starting again.

"_Rewind,"_ Santana had said, _"Rewind and know me again,"_

Every time she had closed her eyes and met with Brittany's lips she had felt warmness, softness, like fireworks and electricity mixed into this gentle feeling of quiet, concentrated, elation. Shallow breathing was shared between watching movies on the couch, _I love yous_ were murmured between pressed bodies and hands tangling themselves in each other's hair.

They had conversations with their eyes.

_Conversations with their bodies_

_Conversations with their hands_

_Conversations with their hearts. _

Their lips strung together the words and phrases that they would construct between smiles. Each morning Santana would wake up and Brittany would be beside her, Brittany would be pressed against her, warm and smooth and Santana would roll towards her, meet her lips with hers in this periodical, punctuating dialogue whispered between the sheets.

Brittany stood in the kitchen, envelope opened, and a look on her face to suggest that either the best or worst thing had happened to her.

"Brittsticks what is it?" Santana asked moving from the computer.

Brittany looked at her and handed her the letter without another word.

_Dear Miss Pierce,_

_It is my extended honour to invite you to join AXIS international Dance Company on their 32__nd__ tour of the United States of America_….

Santana scanned all the way down the page, words like _travelling by bus_, _minimum 1 year contract, strict diet and schedule_ jumped out at her.

Brittany looked like she was going to cry.

They stared at each other for a few minutes. Santana reached out and traced her hands down her cheek, running it across her exposed collarbone, back through her hair and pulling her closer. Santana closed the space between them, pressing their foreheads together, she cupped her face and idly stroked Brittany's cheek with her thumb.

"Go," she whispered.

"Santana this is not…"

"This is your dream,"

"But you're my dream San," she whispered.

Santana smiled, kissing her, "Dreams are never forgotten; I'll be here when you get back,"


	35. Chapter 34

Little Readers!

Just to quickly touch base on a review/comment made about the _restraining order_... lol! okay yes I am fully aware of what this is, what I am also fully aware of, is this is **fanfiction**. I dont feel it neccessary to put all the ins and outs and every single little detail... just let stuff flow! It's suppose to be light and fluffy and have you feeling things like ohhh my heart, instead of ohhh the law states... I just wanted to write this to concentrate on Brittana feelings... okay rant over.

In the mean time, gosh darn you guys and your I love yous! I lovee you too!

Home stretch now, pinkie promise!

Court

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 34<strong>

_You slipped away_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

The air hovered around Santana, as she stared into the nursery of the maternity ward; she placed her head against the glass, watching as Kurt bent down over the incubator smiling at the tiny little bundle that lay in the hospital blankets. Rachel stood beside him, her eyes shining with the tears that she had never been able to hold inside anyway.

Santana felt an arm slip around her shoulders, she knew his touch; it had been ingrained in her the same way each of these people would never leave her life. Now, more than ever, it was stronger, stronger because it had a small baby boy to care for and look after.

"He's beautiful," she whispered, as the tears slid down her cheek.

Puck stared at his child through the glass, "William _is_ beautiful," he murmured, "So are you,"

Santana's lips quivered, "I lost her,"

Sue had screeched to a stop outside Zoe house, Santana had piled from the vehicle screaming Brittany's name, she was screaming Brittany's name with all the desperation of someone who needed something as badly as what she needed her. But she was met with just one person, an aged man, green parker, and frown upon his face.

_"What's the racket lady?"_ he had said, _"You'll disturb the neighbours,"_

_"Where's Zoe,"_ she had demanded, _"Where the hell is Zoe?"_

He had looked at her and shook his head, _"She just rented this place, she packed up and headed on out to who only knows where. Left half her damn stuff behind, real pain in the ass for the insurance clean up,"_

_Measure your life in the moments that catch up on you, measure the moments that you catch up with, but what about measuring the moments that slip away._

Brittany had slipped away again.

Even Sue had been prepared to catch Santana has she fell again.

"Santana," Puck said softly beside her. She couldn't take her eyes off William, he was so small, he was so small and the life shone from him in this fresh new glow that it was impossible not to feel the warmth spread through her body.

"Santana you're Williams' godmother,"

That's all it took; Santana hung her head, and allowed Puck to curl his arms around her, in the same way he had held her outside the hospital all those months ago. He held her, held her there, so Santana wouldn't slip away.

**. . .**

Hearts can do plenty of things, they can beat, they can flutter, they can _bend_ and they can break. What one do you like the most? Did you say flutter? Did you say bend or break? You forgot one though didn't you, you forgot that hearts _heal_. So maybe if a heart does not break, then there would be no such thing as a heart healing. And in a world like this, how can there possibly be any learning if there is no healing? Struggle comes with life does it not?

As Santana packed the last of what little she had brought in her suitcase as her mother entered her room carrying the pages of the photocopied notebook.

"Querida, this is most definitely not like you,"

Santana looked to her mother, "It's over Mama, they've gone to god only knows where,"

Sometimes Santana wonders if anything is actually absolute anymore. Is there a right or wrong? What measures or justifies good or bad? Artie loved Brittany didn't he? Zoe thought that being gay was a sin, which was what she believed in, so she didn't know any different right? But what measures the truth from a lie? Tolerance from intolerance? What if everything is just negotiable now? There's no black or white in the world, there's just grey.

"Santana please," her mother begged.

"It's done Mum," she murmured, "My flight leaves tomorrow, I'll be back in New York before tomorrow, it's finished,"

Santana now believed that sometimes life was more chaotic than dreams. Sometimes even in the darkest of dreams you'll learn to find or face what's hidden in your soul. Santana's soul had been stripped from her, it had been pulled from her reach and she was trying to reign the invisible threads back in, but the anchor had exploded, the ship had set sail and now she had been left to retreat into her dreams in which she prayed would be better than this reality.

**. . .**

Brittany sat with her hands curled in her lap; she was staring so intently at her jeans she wondered if they would fade from the extent of her glare. Artie sat beside her, she knew he was staring at her, but she couldn't look at him, she felt so wrong.  
>"It'll be fine Britt," Zoe said from the driver's seat, she had a box sitting next to her. Brittany's box.<p>

One box full of the things that were supposed to mean the most to her.

Was that all her life had been worth?

Just one box?

How do you measure the things important to you?

"Artie and I, are the most important Britt, it's been you and me since we were kids," she had said as she had packed a suitcase. "It will be okay, relocating will be good for you, we'll start again,"

Sometimes being young means you think nothing can hurt you. You think you're invincible. You have your entire life set out before you. Then you realise that some things happen that haven't been accounted for in these plans. It scares the hell out of you because suddenly everything is turned upside down and you don't know what or who to believe. So what do you put your faith in? Who do you trust? Do you wait for things to piece together or do you pay attention to the piece that's been missing all along? You want to look back on your life and believe you made the most of it, that you made the right decisions. You want to believe it all mattered. Brittany finally turned to Artie, as the vehicle ploughed south across the border on route towards Florida. Brittany finally looked at him, looked at him with all the sincerity that she could muster.

"How did you propose to me?" she asked.

Artie didn't look up from his lap; his hands were tied together, tied together in the very understanding that it would never be Brittany's hand that would be there instead.

"I didn't," he murmured.

Artie did all but one thing. He leant into his backpack beside him and he retrieved the snow globe that Brittany had kept since college and had been caught amongst her things that Zoe had snatched from her apartment in New York. He held it out to her and tipped it upside down.

Brittany stared at it.

The Snow.

Her snowflake.

It all came rushing back in moments of tongue tied whispers and broken hearts.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_Your there, and I'm here, where do we go from here?_

_Life after college, away from home, and New York City_

You could try to change yourself in every which way possible. But the more things change, the more likely they are to stay the same. Santana thought that maybe this was everyone's flaw, an inability to change until something major happened that forces the change upon them. When it happens maybe it doesn't happen like this great big explosion or earthquake, where we're suddenly a different person. Maybe it's smaller than that, the kind of change that no one really notices unless they look at us closely. You notice it yourself though. You feel it inside, and when you feel it, you pray to god that this is the person you'll be forever, that you'll never change again.

Brittany had been gone for three months. In those three months, Santana had decided that she needed to concentrate on the one thing that made her who she was.

_Her music. _

She had met Andrew, who was now her agent. She had met him and he was currently producing her first album. She was going through the motions of creating a career for herself, playing in bars, playing at functions, people were slowly learning her name. She would wake up to messages and emails from Brittany, missed because of time differences, and different schedules and trying to fill spaces that had become impossible.

Santana stood over her kitchen sink, stirring the sugar into her coffee as she skimmed through _Paste Magazine_, she smiled as she saw her album printed on one of the pages. She stood smiling like an idiot for a good ten minutes, and then reached to ring Brittany but her phone signalled before she even had the chance to dial any digits.

"Rachel Berry!" Santana grinned.

Rachel Berry had come a long way in the space of six months, she had flown to Los Angeles, she had laid her heart on the line and she had told Quinn that if she didn't be with her, she may as well just stop breathing. Quinn had stared at her and told her that she should have come sooner.

"San, you would not believe what I am doing. Quinn and I just bought an apartment on Twelfth Avenue, I'm moving my production company to New York, we can have coffee at _La Colombe_, and you can take Quinn to all those museums because she's so completely obsessed with them, actually I think she's taking her portfolio…."

"Rachel!" Santana interrupted, "You're talking faster than my brain can process language!"

Rachel laughed, "Just meet me at _The Dandelion_," she said, "Come celebrate with us,"

Santana waited for the click of the phone call to end, before she looked at her screensaver, her and Brittany cheek to cheek, stupid faces, laughing at graduation.

"Why does the world keep us apart?" she whispered, "Why can't we have both?"


	36. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER 35**

_I feel like I've lost you, _

_When really he knew he couldn't keep you from me_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Regret is sometimes small, like when we make a rash decision for a good cause. Some regrets are a little bigger, like letting down a friend, or not trying your best in a race. Some people don't have time for regret, some are looking too far into the future, while others are fighting to come to terms with their past. There are people in this world who bury their regret, bury it under the promise they will change their ways. The biggest regret will be the things we never do, the things that we hide from the ones we love out of selfishness to obtain the things that were never ours.

He could not do that.

In the quiet of the night, he rolled himself from the motel bed, he crawled his way to the lounge, and he took the pillow, he placed it over her face and he pressed tightly. She awoke with a rush, her limbs flailing. He had built up his upper body strength since high school, maybe his legs did not work but his arms were stronger than he had ever let on. She was rasping and grasping for air, trying to remove the pillow, and then in her most vulnerable state, between consciousness and dizzy spells of blackness, between slipping away and hanging on, he leant into her ear.

"_I am going to let Brittany go now, and so are you, do you understand?"_

When all is said and done, even the most distorted people will always be met with a decision. The life will come out of the darkness; it will stand in front of you and force you to make a choice. Do you go with that choice? Or do you deny it?

Zoe muffled her answer through the material of the pillow and Artie lifted it slightly to hear her coherently, _"Okay,"_ she heaved, _"You win,"_

* * *

><p>It's in the greatest or most trying moments in your life that we are the most truly tested. First day of school, first crush, first job rejected, first electricity bill, a friend dying, a broken heart, trying to reclaim what was always yours.<p>

But these moments, are the moments in which you discover who you truly are. Be tested and discover all the things you can be. Once in a while you might just find that you can push yourself to be better.

"Don't do this," Rachel said exasperatingly, plucking the suitcase and hurling it half way across the room.

"Rachel!" Santana said annoyed.

"Santana this is ridiculous, you've caving in, you've given up," Quinn interjected from beside her desk, "This isn't you, stay here for the rest of the week, think things over,"

"I can't think anymore!" she reeled, "It hurts too much!"

"What about Puck and Gabby? What about staying here and marvelling in William Puckerman, the little boy that our big boy created,"

Santana wanted to bury her face in the jacket she was attempting to put back in her suitcase, she couldn't do this.

"I'll fly to Atlanta when they go back, for now I need to mend my heart,"

"Quinn we have a stray lesbian, mission rescue required,"

"Rachel stop!" Santana said silencing her, "It's over,"

In the entire time Santana had known her, Rachel Berry closed her mouth.

* * *

><p><em><strong>BACK THEN<strong>_

_Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along_

_9 months apart_

Santana had learnt that maybe in the world there were two types of people. People, who listen to the lyrics, listen to everything they mean and analyse what the artist is trying to say. Then there are the people who just want a good beat, who just want something to dance to. Her album had been produced, people knew her name, she was performing for people, and MTV had interviewed her last week. Sometimes things find you when you need them. Sometimes the lyrics and the beat just work like one.

The rain dribbled down the window panes, as the weather outside swirled in the glossy storm that had become firm friends with New York City since Tuesday. Glass of wine in one hand, pen in the other, she needed words to start her second album. Then one word echoed that she wasn't prepared for.

"Santana!"

Following her name, Santana opened the balcony doors, into the wind and leant over the side of the railing to see Brittany on the pave way beneath her, completely drenched and screaming her name.

"Brittany?"

_Jesus Christ what in the world was she doing?_

"Santana come down here!"

Santana had this unhinged feeling of anger, "You think you can just show up after nine months and demand that I come stand with you in the freaking rain?"

Even from a distance Brittany managed to lock Santana's eyes and before she could even comprehend where her feet were taking her, they were marching her down to the one thing they always retraced themselves back to, Brittany.

Clothes soaked through, Santana could distinguish all the crevices and lines in her body through the material of Brittany's clothes. Her torso, the small curves of her hips, the roundness of her breasts, the strength of her collarbone. It made her weak.

Brittany was holding a folder in her hands.

"I will throw this all away," she said through the rain, "All these certificates, I'll throw every single reference and stop dancing if you say you'll take me back, take me back as your girlfriend, not this person that you're maybe with Santana, I want to be with you completely,"

Santana's knees nearly buckled, "What?"

"I can't live without you," she sobbed.

God Santana had thought it was rain drops streaking down Brittany's face, and now she realised she was crying as hard as the rain itself.

"I tried, but everything on that tour reminded me of you. They drilled me San, they drilled me so hard I forgot what it was like to love dance. And then no one was there at the end of the day to share my love of it with,"

Santana didn't know what to say, she had been engulfed by shock, the moment she had seen her standing below their balcony.

"Please," Brittany begged, "Just say the word and these stupid certificates are gone,"

"No," Santana said shaking her head, and Brittany all but crumbled.

Santana stepped towards her, "I will never let you give up dancing,"

Brittany stilled as Santana closed the space between them, she leant in and kissed her.

She kissed her softly, and then the slow pulls at Brittany's lips become a need, a need that she was never going to stop wanting, and then all of a sudden she had backed her against the wall of their apartment block and was pulling at her lips like she had never needed anything more in her life.

"Santana I hate what I put you through,"

Santana pulled away to look at her, they were both still dripping wet from the rain.

"Brittsticks," she murmured, "It's okay,"

"No its not," she replied, "It's not okay because you're the one who has always fought for us. Even in high school you knew what you wanted and I was just, Jesus Christ I don't even know what I was doing,"

Santana was so glad the rain water was still trickling down her body, because she was burning so much, that if it wasn't, she'd be overheating.

"Brittany, this has never been about choosing our dreams over each other. This has been about balance,"

"Which I suck at,"

Santana smirked, "We both kinda sucked for a while. Baby I will never let you stop dancing…"

"God when you say baby," Brittany breathed, capturing Santana lips all over again.

"This is it," Brittany whispered, "No more second thoughts, no more nothing, I am yours Santana, I am completely and utterly yours,"

Santana stared at her, "You've always been mine,"


	37. Chapter 36

**CHAPTER 36**

_I will never let you go baby, it hasn't been written that way_

* * *

><p><strong><em>NOW<em>**

A small girl's squeal sent Santana's eyes just left of the security screen. She saw two women playing with a little girl on the floor.

"Rachel," the darker woman was saying, "Come here please,"

"She doesn't listen to you," the fairer women replied, "You're too strict on her,"

The darker woman had raised her eyebrows, before leaning over and kissing her, "It's because your heart is bigger,"

_Christ_

There'll be moments in your life when you're at a cross road. You're afraid and lost and the map has been ripped. All the roads are congested, they're divided, separated and suddenly the road we take could define the rest of our days.

This wasn't over.

This was never going to be over.

Santana told the security offices to stop screening her bags.

"Miss Lopez?"

"No," she said, "I can't do this; I have to find her,"

When Santana had finished high school, Mr Schuester had told her to write a secret letter to keep with her for the rest of her life. _"It'll be like your own time capsule Santana," _he had said smiling at her, _"Who you are now is the person you will always come back to, this is the person that has fought with all the different disguises, looked as deeply as possible and pulled the veil down. You are the rawest you will ever be in these last moments at McKinley high Santana. So? Who are you?"_

My name is Santana Lopez. I'm a senior at McKinley High. I sing in Glee Club, I'm a Cheerio and sometimes I like to write. I am gay. I have a girlfriend, her name is Brittany Pierce, and she will be the love of my life for eternity. I have a best friend, her name is Rachel Berry, she's so over the top sometimes she makes me dizzy, but her strength guides me. Mr Schuester will always be my favourite teacher. Glee Club taught me about loyalty, about friendship, about striving for the dreams I never knew were there. McKinley High in Lima, Ohio is just another place in this world. It's nothing very significant, but maybe it's just like your world, or maybe it's absolutely nothing like it. But do me a favour, look closer.

I think you might find some people just like you, or maybe one person in particular. This someone is just trying to find their place; they're just trying to find themselves. Sometimes it will feel like you are the only person in this world who is frustrated or angry or in pain or barely getting by. It will seem like you are the only one struggling. It's not true. If you just keep going, just hold on, you'll be okay. Everyone needs a little guidance once in a while, everyone needs a little help, don't be afraid to ask for it. Someone will help you listen to the music; they'll help you find the right words. Someone is out there.

Don't worry they'll find you.

"I'm still Santana Lopez," she breathed, "I'm Santana Lopez and I'll fight for her,"

Santana hurried back out to the airport lounge, she didn't know what her plan was, she just needed to get Rachel brainstorming.

The familiar red tracksuit suddenly engulfed her vision and Sue Sylvester was standing in front of her.

"Coach Sylvester?"

"I was thinking Santana, that what's a Tweedle fake boobs, without a Tweedle Dee?"

Santana stilled.

Santana's missing piece came from around the bend; she came in a light floral dress, blonde hair draped over her shoulders, bright blue eyes shining, tears streaming down her face.

She ran straight to Santana.

"Brittsticks," Brittany, sobbed, "You call me Brittsticks. You proposed in the snow, with a stupid bunch of breadsticks instead of roses, and I had never been more in love in my life,"

"Baby," Santana melted, as Brittany fell into her.

The feel of her pressed against her, was more than electricity, it was like an electric storm.

"I promised I would never forget you, I promise I would always be there," she cried.

"Baby stop, baby it's not your fault,"

"No it is, it is because I stopped believing in you, god San, I will never, I hate…"

"No," Santana said firmly, drawing her face up to hers, they locked eyes, they locked hearts, and they locked everything that had been denied. This was not her fault, this was not her fault when people had taken the memories from her and distorted them.

"Santana," Brittany choked, "I remember. I feel it. I felt it back then, I feel it now, I will always feel it Santana, you're it, you're mine,"

"Brittsticks,"

Santana couldn't even bring herself to say anything, christ she just kissed her. She kissed her so hard; the tears seemed to mesh between them. She held her there for what seemed like centuries, holding their lips together, in the middle of the airport, holding them so nothing would ever tear them apart ever again.

"I'm sorry," Brittany murmured again, "I'm sorry it took me so long,"

"Baby stop, it's okay now, you found me, you opened your eyes,"

Brittany looked at her, her arms around Santana's neck, holding them together like the glue that they had always been.

Santana smiled at her, "I've been here all along," she whispered.

* * *

><p>:) <strong>so many Brittana feeling's!<strong>

Now DON'T go anywhere lol… I've already missed my damn bus trying to upload this in some café I can't even pronounce because I am so wired with too many feelings… almost in Liboa… I think? I'm actually kinda lost… not as lost at Brittany don't worry ;) so give me time to get to the next town…and I'll write the wrap up on the way….


	38. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER 37**

_Baby, come ride with me, we'll go anywhere and nowhere_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

Rachel squealed as Quinn edged towards her with the icing.

"Quinn Fabray, I swear to god if you dare even consider putting that in my hair…."

"You'll what?" she smirked, continuing to walk slowly towards her.

"I'll report you to the authorities,"

Quinn raised her eyebrows and suddenly Brittany had crashed into her, side tackling her into the kitchen bench.

Quinn laughed as Brittany pried the whisk from her hand, swiping some of the icing with her finger to eat.

"Oh thank god for Brittany Pierce," Rachel exhaled.

Quinn reached out and dragged her across to them.

"How you feeling today?"

Brittany looked at Quinn, "Better," she said quietly.

Quinn kissed her forehead gently, "Don't ever scare us like that again,"

A small moment, shared between someone who had always been there too.

The open and shut of the front door indicated Santana had come back from Kurt's demand to have a meeting about wedding preparations again.

"_It's too soon!"_ Rachel had yelled into the phone, whilst Santana hyperventilated beside her.

"_Rachel,"_ Kurt had said irritated, _"It is not too soon, it is delayed!"_

Santana hadn't said anything to Brittany; not yet, she just wanted her to find her feet again. She was still so fragile, that she couldn't bare put any excess pressure on her.

"_But she wants to marry you!"_ Kurt had yelled in the middle of the Lima florist.

"_Kurt you are being overdramatic!"_

He had folded his arms in annoyance, _"Get out of my wedding planner face before I slap you!"_

"_Kurt!"_

"_Santana,"_ he had reasoned, _"Just let me figure something out, go back to the Berry's, Brittany's waiting for you,"_

Santana had pulled a white rose from the pot standing next to her, and she had handed at him.

Kurt had rolled his eyes, _"Santana Lopez, two gays don't make a straight,"_

Santana walked into the kitchen, just as Rachel had squirmed free of Quinn icing sugar grip.

"Ready?" Santana asked, reaching out stroke to stroke Brittany's arm, she had lived through not being able to touch her, so now every chance she had; she just wanted to feel the heat of Brittany's skin.

"Yes," she smiled, looking at her.

Every look now was so much more intense, so much more longing, as though they could never look away again, for the fear that if they woke up, the other wouldn't be there.

"Be back before 5pm please," Rachel quipped.

Santana rolled her eyes, dragging her car keys from back out of her pocket, "Yes boss," she smirked.

"I'm serious!" Rachel replied, but Quinn put her hand over mouth.

"Baby," Quinn reasoned, that's four hours away, we're going to be alone in the house…."

Santana and Brittany pretended to gag, before walking from the room, and even if her mouth was covered by Quinn's hand, Santana knew Rachel had been smiling.

Santana felt the whip through her air as she hung out the window of her Jeep, yelling into the wind as Brittany floored it along interstate 34, just outside Lima's district. They weren't going anywhere, in fact Rachel had organised a small get together later that afternoon, before Puck and Gabby took little William home, and everyone went on with their separate lives once more.

"_I'm not sure how I feel about you guys leaving Lima again,"_ Tina had said the other day as they had sipped coffee at breadsticks.

"_Come with us,"_ Brittany had smirked, and Tina had raised her eyebrows, _"and risk not having a life supply of breadsticks?"_

Brittany had laughed, _"I want you to start air mailing them,"_

Even though they had no destination, nowhere that they were heading, maybe that was the point, just to be on the open highway, plains of fields stretched on either side of them, the sun beating down on their faces, tanning Santana and burning Brittany. Santana looked at her, she was laughing, pressing the accelerator down further as Santana's high school Jeep ploughed onwards, whipping through the lines in the centre fold of the highway. Maybe it was just freedom, just the simple understanding that even though someone Brittany once trusted had broken all of her fibre, she had survived, she had found her way back. Santana stretched her hand out of the rolled down window, creating waves with her hand against the open air. There are billions of people in this world, billions of people with numbers in every corners of the globe rising every single day. Some are on adventures, some are coming home, some are running away and some have lost their way. Others are caught in webs of lies just to make it through the week, some refuse to face the truth, while others stand by it for all their moral intentions. Some have evil minds lost in the distortion of power and wealth, constantly at war with people who seek universal justice and equality. Some are beautifully constructed people trying not to give into temptation and others are simple people trying to make the best out of a complex situation. Billions of people, billions of hearts and souls. All Santana needed was one. She'd found her one soulmate. She'd lost her, and then found her and now staring at Brittany as the wind glided through her hair, her eyes shone against the glare of the sun on the dashboard, Santana knew, she was never letting her go.

* * *

><p><strong>. . .<strong>

Forgiveness is not the easiest thing to come by. Sometimes it might be easy to remain bitter, to hate the person for whatever they've done because it's easier to stay mad at them and ignore all the reasons why they may have done what they did. Forgiveness takes strength. Some people do things or say things that they can't take back or undo. But sometimes we do things we can't take back too. You'll never really know how sorry a person is, until they look you directly in the eyes and you see that they've hurt themselves as much as they hurt you.

Santana was staring at Artie, staring as he sat in his chair, hands drawn over his lap. When he'd asked to meet her in the park, she was surprised he had still had her number saved all these years. Short of wanting to stay bitter, stay angry and hate him for the rest of her life, Santana had realised that she would always share one thing in common with _Wheels_ for eternity. The love for Brittany.

"I don't understand why you did it," Santana whispered.

Artie looked down at his hands, "Brittany was the only one who looked beneath my layers and pulled me back out again,"

"And Zoe, where is she? How did you get her to let Britt go?"

Artie narrowed his eyes, "I don't want to talk about that. She won't bother you again though,"

Santana felt something in that moment; she felt a divine understanding for someone who loved Brittany as much as what she did.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He smiled lightly, "What for Santana, I was never competing with you, not when Brittany's heart was yours all along,"

"What happens from here?"

He shrugged, "I have a job offer in Arizona, might head there for a bit, work on a way to stay above the darkness,"

"You're still invited to th…."

"Santana I appreciate your understanding, I did a terrible thing to you and I don't deserve any forgiveness, but please don't punish me anymore than I'm punishing myself,"

Santana leant down and kissed Arties cheek, "You will always be a part of Britts life, know that,"

Artie inhaled deeply, smiling slightly before nodding. After all these years, they finally stood in the same place; they finally stood on the same platform. All the anger had gone, it had been replaced with the simple understanding that Artie had fought for love just as much as she had, and maybe there wasn't anything sinful about that. Santana wondered if she would have done the same.

"Take care of yourself Artz," she murmured.

"Take care of _her_," he said softly.

Santana watched him wheel away from the park bench, he rolled down the slight slope onto the footpath and disappeared into the late afternoon sunshine.

Her phone sounded and she looked down at the text message from Kurt.

"I got the Lilies, I rebooked the church. I want the first born to be named after me,"

In the quiet of the park around her, Santana burst out laughing.

* * *

><p><strong>. . .<strong>

Have you ever wondered how long it would take to change your life? Does it take days or years for your life to be altered? Does it take 12 months? A six week trip overseas? Do you think your life could change in a month, a week, one single day? What about minutes or seconds. We live our life, trying to grow up before we need to, just so we can go places, get ahead, be somebody. But what people fail to realise is that when you're young, it only takes seconds for your life to change. Santana stood next to Quinn, with Brittany beside her, holding her hand. She watched as Rachel placed flowers at Mr Schuester's grave.

Mr Schuester had taught them to imagine a moment in their lives when all their dreams had come true. A moment where their life had changed and the greatest moment of their existence had been presented before them. He asked them to always remember the moments they had shared with each other in Glee Club, because those were the moments that would never leave them. No matter how many moments in their lives altered, the memories they had cemented in Glee Club would never leave them.

"_We're all here,"_ Rachel had said, _"I think we should all see him,"_

"_We're not all here,"_ Kurt had pointed out and Rachel had sighed slightly, _"But,"_ he had continued, _"I think Mr Schuester knows anyway,"_

So here they were, huddled in the late afternoon sunshine, beside the grave of their favourite teacher. Puck was holding his son, with his wife standing to his left, watching him as well.

"Mr Schuester," Puck said softly, "I just thought you might like to meet someone,"

Santana felt Brittany squeeze her hand as he knelt down in front of the grave stone, he didn't once take his eyes off little William. There's so much strength that comes from looking at a child. They seem to have this ability to heal you, even if pain or grief is the only thing that seems to surround you.

When Santana was little, and things between her parents hadn't been so bad, her father use to come into her bedroom, right before she was supposed to go to sleep, and he would read her a fairy tale. He would tell her a story about how she was a princess and one day she was going to grow up and meet a prince charming who would carry her away to a castle on a hill. One night Santana asked him what would happen if she didn't meet prince charming, what would happen if she fell in love with someone else? Her Dad had thought on this a moment, before telling her that love comes in all different shapes and sizes, it means different things to different people, but it should not be considered any less valuable than any other form of love.

Faith and love are funny things; sometimes they show up when you really don't expect it. Sometimes your fairy tale turns out slightly different than the one you had dreamed. Maybe that castle isn't on a hill, maybe it's somewhere you never thought it would be. But maybe that's the whole thing about love; you share it with people for different reasons. Santana stared at the people she had gone to school with, the people who had grown with her, learnt with her, and accepted her for everything she ever was. This is what love felt like.

"Can we sing it?" Rachel asked softly.

Tina wrapped an arm around her lightly, whilst Mercedes dug out her phone,

"I can't believe you still have it saved on your phone," Quinn murmured.

"I don't think any of us will forget the words though," Kurt grinned.

Brittany leant into Santana, "Do you remember the words?"

Santana smiled, looking at her, "I'll never forget them,"

A button was pressed on that phone, on that late Thursday afternoon, with a handful of adults that had shared a childhood not too long ago; and into the air music had been played, met with the voices of a Glee Club that would always remember the lyrics.

_To sir, with love. _


	39. Chapter 38

**CHAPTER 38**

_I think I wanna marry you_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW<strong>_

There are some things all humans will share in common. The fear of failure, the fear of rejection, the fear of trying to make the right decisions, because you're so scared you might be wrong. You think to yourself, god, what if this is the wrong decision, what if this is the one thing that is going to bring everything I've ever worked for undone. This is where the words of Benjamin Franklin might just help the world learn to let go. "_Never leave that till tomorrow,"_ he had said, "_with which you can do today,"_ So maybe it is he who hesitates that is the one who makes the wrong decision. Maybe he who does not seize the day, is the one who rejects all of life's very teachings; that it's okay to make mistakes. Making mistakes means learning lessons. Learning lessons means feeling pain, and feeling pain means feeling real.

That you are real, this is real, all of it is real.

"Brittany!" Santana laughed as she was pulled into McKinley high, "Britt slow down!"

"I can't Sue is only letting me use the auditorium for third period!"

"Christ" Santana muttered, it sounded like they were back in high school.

Brittany trailed around the corner before stopping abruptly, Santana crashed into her, nearly slipping, but Brittany had her, and she pulled Santana into her arms.

"Baby this is not the auditorium,"

Brittany shrugged lightly pressing them close together, "Quick pit stop on the way,"

Santana frowned, "I don't get it,"

Brittany grinned gently before leaning Santana into the locker and kissing her.

"Do you remember the _Hurt locker_?"

_Santana melted.  
><em>

"You remember it?"

"Of course I do, it was the first time you told me you love me," Brittany whispered.

Santana's legs nearly gave out beneath her.

"San?"

"Mmmm?" she replied stroking her thumb down Brittany's cheek, skin like snowflakes, soft, delicate, she could stare at her every second of every day forever.

"_I have all of these feelings... Feelings for you.._.."

Santana smirked, "Smartass..."

Brittany grinned, _"Still I have to accept, that I love you..."  
><em>

Santana couldn't even process thought or logic because her heart rate was going a million miles an hour.

She pressed Brittany harder against their locker, the locker that would always be theirs. She clawed at Brittany's thighs, running her lips down her neck, it would never be enough.

"Santana!" Brittany said breathless, "Pit stop over, we need to keep going,"

Santana forced her back into the lockers, "What we need is to keep kissing,"

Brittany smirked, "We have the rest of our lives for that,"

Santana bit her lip, letting herself be dragged down the corridor once more.

Intimacy is a four syllable word, wrapped up in words like I'm in love with you, I want you, I need you, don't ever let me go. Maybe there's no rulebook to intimacy or love anymore. Maybe it's something you get to define yourself. There's no right or wrong, there's no _it should be that way_ because the law states so. You can't govern love, there's nothing political or economic about the boundaries of love. At the end of the day, while the walls crash down around you, the only thing you'll have left is the ability to love, don't lose that, don't ever lose that.

Brittany opened the doors to the auditorium. Santana had forgotten how big it looked without crowds of people lining the seats. She was pulled down the centre aisle, towards the stage.

Rachel's set hadn't been taken down yet, Christ that was really something that needed to be done before they left. Especially considering Rachel was insisting on road tripping back to New York instead of flights.

"_Oh god,"_ Quinn had muttered, _"Not another road trip,"_

"_But baby,"_ Rachel had objected, _"This time when we sleep together, we'll know exactly what we're doing,"_

"_Not in my Jeep you won't,"_ Santana had replied, throwing the pillow at her face.

Brittany had hit her back in Rachel's defence, _"What happened to being on my side," _Santana had questioned.

Too late, insert pillow fight that woke Rachel's Dads up.

Santana was pulled up on stage, the lights dimly lit; creating these small delicate shadows from the New York City cut outs on stage. She almost felt like she was in the middle of the city.

Brittany looked at her, looked at her with those eyes that would always know her.

_Santana melted._

"It's my turn," she whispered.

Santana frowned gingerly, "What's your turn,"

Before Santana could ask another question, Brittany had stepped to the side and pulled a lever on one of the fake snow machines that had been used for the production. Instantly the tiny like styrofoam snowdrops began to pump out of the vents, littering the stage, Santana along with it. Brittany smiled and stepped into the space between them, she pulled Santana close to her, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a brown paper bag.

It smelt like fresh bread on a winter afternoon.

"Open," Brittany said, without dropping her gaze.

Santana did as she was told, and suddenly there was a bunch of breadsticks in her hand.

"You proposed to me with breadsticks in the snow," Brittany smiled.

Santana felt the trembles shoot up through her body like electricity.

Brittany wasn't finished; she dug into her jacket and retrieved the one thing Santana had thought they'd lost; her diamond ring.

"Santana," she whispered, bringing her closer, so they were touching.

_Inch to inch, skin to skin, eyes to eyes, hearts to hearts._

"Will you marry me?"

Santana smiled briefly, her heart was racing so fast she thought it might cause a collision between either sides of her rib cage.

"Name one good reason, Brittsticks" she teased.

Brittany pressed her lips to Santana's, forcing them open so she could run her tongue along the walls of Santana's mouth.

"Because," she murmured, locking their eyes, "I've been here all along,"

There wasn't even a response needed.

Because this is what was always meant to happen.

Santana curled Brittany onto the stage floor, a stage that had been such an integral part of their high school life. Bodies pressed together, hearts seeping through each other's clothes.

"Make love to me in the snow," Brittany murmured.

_Santana melted._

_Snowflake_. She had always been her snowflake.

**. . .**

"You've got everything; you have all your things that I packed away….?"

"Yes Mamma!" Santana laughed, embracing her, "Can you stop though, we're going to be late,"

"San, you can't be late for the road, its open 24 hour seven,"

Santana swiped Rachel with her jacket, sending her running out of her mother's house.

"You be safe now Querida,"

"Mum," Santana smiled, "I'll see you in three weeks,"

Maria nodded, "I still have to find what I'm wearing to this wedding, Kurt threatened that if it wasn't yellow he might kill me…"

Santana hugged her mother; resisting the urge to laugh at Kurt's theory her mother was a canary in her past life.

"I love you," she whispered, "I'll see you soon,"

Santana lightly bounced down the driveway, laughing as Rachel struggled to put the last pieces of her stage props amongst their suitcases in the boot.

Brittany climbed from the passenger seat to help her, before she looked at Santana and smiled.

"I like your ring," she smiled, "Who's the lucky girl?"

Santana leant in and kissed her, "Me," she whispered.

"Okay gay sharks," Quinn yelled from the driver's seat, "Hurry the hell up, I want to beat freeway traffic,"

Rachel hurried round to the side, clambering in as Santana and Brittany filed into the back.

"You sure you want to take this back to New York San?" Quinn asked glancing at her from the review mirror.

Santana shrugged, "I never realised how much I missed it," she patted the Jeep's seat beneath her and Brittany laughed at her.

"It'll go nicely with the Lexus, I think,"

Quinn grinned, "Say goodbye to Lima girls," she said.

The engine was pulled, the windows rolled down, and Santana took one last look at the place that she would always call home.


	40. Epilogue

We made it Little Readers !

Brittana fans! Such a wonderful fandom you are!

Thank you for riding this through!

Depending on how much time I can spare, I may start a sequel for you, but Glee's returning soon, so I'm sure you'll have enough angst on your plates ha!

For now, I wish you all the love in the world,

This one is just for you guys!

Court

* * *

><p><strong>EPILOGUE<strong>

Most of our lives are just a series of images in a life that we're trying to direct the best way we know how. These images will pass by like towns on highways; birds in the sky, words whispered out car windows. But maybe you might just find one particular moment that stuns us, it sends shock waves through to our very core, so much so that it becomes much more than a single fleeting image. This moment becomes instilled within us; it stays with us, every part of it, with us forever.

The day Santana married the love of her life was her one moment.

Today, this day, embedded, forever.

The speakers reigned so loudly, Santana was nearly knocked over.

"I told you I would get the rooftop!" Kurt squealed, spinning in a circle, so his kilt spun in all different directions. Santana laughed as Rachel grasped him into a hug, "You can plan our wedding!" she said sheepishly, eyeing Quinn.

Santana waited for a moment, expecting silence, expecting Quinn to hush her with a look that said stop trying to steal the spotlight. Only instead she wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist.

"You _can _plan our wedding Kurt," she agreed smiling, "I already know how I'm proposing"

Rachel jaw dropped open as she struggled to find words to fire at her and Santana laughed as Quinn merely kissed her and stripped all her responses. Just like that, she took all the words from Rachel's mouth, just like Brittany seemed to take all the breath from Santana's whenever she walked into the room.

"Oh lord, Rachel Berry's wedding, someone give me a brown paper bag,"

Rachel stuck her tongue out at Mercedes, as Tina laughed beside her.

Santana had finally realised that happiness comes in many different forms. The feeling you get when you see your child graduate, the company of good friends, when you accomplish something, when you make someone's dreams comes true. You're allowed to be happy you know, you're allowed to smile and to laugh and think freely. Sometimes this pain we carry with us, becomes such a huge part of how we live, that people often learn to expect it to always be there. You've tried for so long and so hard and suddenly you just can't remember a time in your life when the pain wasn't there. But then something happens, something unfamiliar, something that feels so strange and daunting that you're not sure what to do with yourself, but then you realise that you're happy. Maybe it's not that we make our moments, maybe the moments in our lives make us. We're constructed and shaped by the people we love and the words we speak.

"Toast!"

Santana looked up from where she had been staring at Brittany dancing with Mike, the one dance she would always remember, just watching her and Santana was already humming 'Valerie'.

Puck was at the microphone, tuxedo, blue tie, grin on his face.

"I'd like to say a few words for the bride and bride!"

Rachel squealed, to which Quinn wrapped her up in her arms.

Puck looked at Santana and winked, god that wink, he was going to have her in tears before she could even remember where she's left the tissues.

She felt warmth slip between her fingers, as Brittany was by her side, she leant into her, kissed her, smiling half way just because this was their wedding day.

Puck cleared his throat slightly, before straightening his shoulders and speaking to the crowd.

"I've known Santana and Brittany since they were cheerleaders, nerds and kept dirt in their lockers,"

Sue Sylvester cheered.

"I think that it doesn't take many of us to understand how much life alters, that things change, and certain moments become hard. I also know, that when this happens, true love, and true soul mates remain unchanged. When I look at Santana I see my best friend, I see my son's god mother, I see someone who every day I aspire to be…"

Rachel was out, "Tissues," she muttered, and Quinn kissed her again.

"When I look at Brittany I see vibrancy, I see light; I see the courage and faith of what people in this world should be like.

When I see Santana and Brittany, I feel safe, I feel calm, as though a love like the one I share with my own wife, is also shared between two people I cherish. Today we're here to celebrate that everything is okay, that for every one of us, there's someone there to give them hope, to give the feeling that their love remains unchanged…"

Santana felt Brittany wipe the tears from her cheek, as Puck raised his glass and indicated for all the guests to do the same.

"Here's to Brittany and Santana, who since all those years ago, learnt to retrace their steps, find each other, and remain together. I do and will always support your love…. NOW LET'S DANCE!"

**. . .**

Once in a while, right in the middle of ordinary life, we find a set of moments that bring us an extraordinary tale. The moment might be fleeting or it might be ingrained into the very depths of your mind, but more often than not, you'll find that two souls with a heartbeat will help you trace your steps to where you were always meant to be.

"Santana," Brittany whispered, folding into her.

Santana held them together, joined and intertwined, "Yes Brittsticks?"

"I believe in you Santana, I believe in us, I always will,"

Santana smiled into the crook of her neck, as Rachel continued to sing harmonies against the microphone and people around them swayed. Brittany's eyes were closed, she was holding Santana so tightly, as though she was never going to let go.

Santana trailed her hands across Brittany's back, thank god for this dress; she loved feeling her snowflake skin beneath her own fingertips. She gently kissed Brittany's closed eyes, and whispered the one thing she'd said all this time.

_"Open your eyes B, it's me, I've been here all along,"_


End file.
